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I 


Lib.  10M-F.'35 


I 


1 


PERRY   MASON  &  COMPANY, 
Boston.  Mass. 


THE  COMPANION  LIBRARY 


Is  a  collection  of  stories,  travel-sketches  and  descriptive  articles,  complete, 
exact,  and  so  interesting  as  to  meet  the  need  of  all  who  want  "a  book 
for  the  leisure  hour."  It  is  made  up  from  the  works  of  some  of  the  best 
writers  for  The  Youth's  Companion. 

The  Library  comprises  the  following  volumes,  each  containing  sixty- 
four  pages,  illustrated  and  bound  uniform  with  this  book: 

No.  I.  A  Book  of  Stories:    Patriotism,  Bravery  and  Kindness. 
No.  2.  Glimpses  of  ^Europe:    Travel  and  Description. 

No.  3.  The  American  Tropics:    Mexico  to  the  Equator. 
No.  4.  Sketches  of  the  Orient:    Scenes  in  Asia, 
No.  5.  Old  Ocean:    Winds,  Currents  and  Perils. 
No.  6.  I/ife  in  the  Sea:    Fish  and  Fishing. 

No.  7.  Bits  of  Bird  I/ife:    Habits,  Nests  and  Eggs. 

No.  8.  Our  I/ittle  Neighbors:   Insects,  Small  Animals. 
No.  9.  At  Home  in  the  Forest:    Wild  Animals. 

No.  10.  In  Alaska:    Animals  and  Resources. 

No.  II.  Among  the  Rockies :    Scenery  and  Travel. 

No.  12.  In  the  Southwest:  Semi-Tropical  Regions. 
No.  13.  On  the  Plains :    Pioneers  and  Ranchmen. 

No.  14.  The  Great  I^ake  Country :    A  Land  of  Progress. 
No.  15.  On  the  Gulf:    Attractive  Regions  of  Contrasts. 
No.  16.  Along  the  Atlantic:    New  York  to  Georgia. 
No.  17.  In  New  ]^ngland:   The  Home  of  the  Puritans. 

Price  10  Cents  Unch,  Postpniih 


PERRY  MASON  &  COMPANY,  Publishers, 
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BITS  OF  BIRD  LIFE. 


SELECTIONS 

From  The  Youth's  Companion. 


Number  Seven. 


CONTENTS. 


BIRD  LIFE  IN  AN  OLD  APPLE-TREE 

.  .       .       JOHN  BURROUGHS. 

PAGE. 
3 

AN  ORIOLE'S  NEST  

WM.  J.  LONG. 

n 

CROW  WAYS  

WM.  J.  LONG. 

15 

A  FAMILY  HISTORY  " 

EMELINE  A.  CROSS. 

22 

A  JOLLY  RED-HEAD  .... 

.     LEANDER  S.  KEYSER. 

29 

THE  CARRIER-PIGEON  IN  AMERICA  . 

.  HENRY  EDWARD  WALLACE. 

33 

THE  PARTRIDGE  ..... 

39 

OSTRICH-FARMING  

.     HENRY  H.  BARROLL. 

46 

A  WIDOW'S- MITES  

E.  F.  HOLDEN. 

53 

OWLS  AND  THEIR  USES  .... 

.  H.  W.  HENSHAW. 

58 

Copyright,  1895. 
PERRY  MASON  &  COMPANY, 
Boston,  Mass. 


Early  Spring  Birds. 


Bird  Life  in  an  Old  Apple -Tree 


Near  my  study  there  used  to  stand  several  old  apple-trees 
that  bore  fair  crops  of  apples,  but  better  crops  of  birds. 
Every  year  these  old  trees  were  the  scenes  of  bird  incidents 
and  bird  histories  that  were  a  source  of  much  interest  and 
amusement. 

Young  trees  may  be  the  best  for  apples,  but  old  trees  are 
sure  to  bear  the  most  birds.  If  they  are  very  decrepit,  and 
full  of  dead  and  hollow  branches,  they  will  bear  birds  in 
winter  as  well  as  summer.  The  downy  woodpecker  wants 
no  better  place  than  the  brittle,  dozy  trunk  of  an  apple-tree 
in  which  to  excavate  his  winter  home. 

My  old  apple-trees  are  all  down  but  one,  and  this  one 
is  probably  an  octogenarian,  and  I  am  afraid  cannot  stand 
it  another  winter.  Its  body  is  a  mere  shell  not  much  over 
one  inch  thick,  the  heart  and  main  interior  structure  having 
turned  to  black  mold  long  ago. 

An  old  tree,  unlike  an  old  person,  as  long  as  it  lives  at  all, 
always  has  a  young  streak,  or  rather  ring,  in  it.  It  wears  a 
girdle  of  perpetual  youth. 

My  old  tree  has  never  yet  failed  to  yield  me  a  bushel  or 
more  of  gillyflowers,  and  it  has  turned  out  at  least  a  dozen 
broods  of  the  great  crested  flycatcher,  and  robins  and  blue- 
birds in  proportion.  It  carries  up  one  large  decayed  trunk 
which  some  one  sawed  off  at  the  top  before  my  time,  and  in 
this  a  downy  woodpecker  is  now,  January  12th,  making  a 
home. 

Several  years  ago  a  downy  woodpecker  excavated  a 
retreat  in  this  branch,  which  the  following  season  was 
appropriated  by  the  bluebirds,  and  has  been  occupied  by 
them  nearly  every  season  since. 

When   the   bluebirds  first  examined  the  cavity  in  the 

00 
r 


4 


BIRD  LIFE  IN  AN  OI.D  APPI,E-TREK. 


Spring,  I  suppose  they  did  not  find  the  woodpecker  at  home, 
as  he  is  a  pretty  early  riser. 

I  happened  to  be  passing  near  the  tree,  when  on  again 
surveying  the  premises  one  afternoon,  they  found  him  in. 

The  male  bluebird  was  very  angry,  and  I  suppose  looked 
upon  the  innocent  downy  as  an  intruder.  He  seized  on  him, 
and  the  two  fell  to  the  ground,  the  speckled  woodpecker  quite 
covered  by  the  blue  coat  of  his  antagonist.  Downy  screamed 
vigorously,  and  got  away  as  soon  as  he  could,  but  not  till  the 
bluebird  had  tweaked  out  a  feather  or  two. 

He  is  evidently  no  fighter,  though  one  would  think  that  a 
bird  that  had  an  instrument  with  which  it  could  drill  a  hole 
into  a  tree  could  defend  itself  against  the  soft-billed  bluebird. 

Two  seasons  the  English  sparrows  ejected  the  bluebirds 
and  established  themselves  in  it,  but  were  in  turn  ejected  by 
the  undersigned,  their  furniture  of  hens'  feathers  and  straws 
pitched  out,  and  the  bluebirds  invited  to  return,  which  later 
in  the  season  they  did. 

The  new  cavity  which  downy  is  now  drilling  is  just  above 
the  old  one  and  near  the  top  of  the  stub.  Their  wells  are 
usually  sunk  to  a  depth  of  six  or  eight  inches,  but  in  the 
present  case  it  cannot  be  sunk  more  than  four  inches  with- 
out breaking  through  into  the  old  cavity. 

Downy  seems  to  have  considered  the  situation,  and  is 
proceeding  cautiously.  As  she  passed  last  night  in  her  new 
quarters  I  am  inclined  to  think  it  is  about  finished,  and  there 
must  be  at  least  one  inch  of  wood  beneath  her.  She  worked 
vigorously  the  greater  part  of  the  day,  her  yellow  chips 
strewing  the  snow  beneath. 

I  paused  several  times  to  observe  her  proceedings. 

After  her  chips  have  accumulated  she  stops  her  drilling 
and  throws  them  out.  This  she  does  with  her  beak,  shaking 
them  out  very  rapidly  with  a  flirt  of  her  head. 

She  did  not  disappear  from  sight  each  time  to  load  her 
beak,  but  withdrew  her  head  and  appeared  to  seize  the 
fragments  as  if  from  her  feet.    If  she  had  had  a  companion 


BIRD  IvIFK  IN  AN  OLD  APPLE-TREE. 


5 


I  should  have  thought  he  was  handing  them  up  to  her  from 
the  bottom  of  the  cavity.  Maybe  she  had  them  piled  up  near 
the  doorway. 

The  woodpeckers,  both  the  hairy  and  the  downy,  usually 
excavate  these  winter  retreats  in  the  fall.  They  pass  the 
nights  and  the  stormy  days  in  them.  So  far  as  I  have 
observed  they  do  not  use  them  as  nesting-places  the  following 
season. 

L<ast  night  when  I  rapped  on  the  trunk  of  the  old  apple- 
tree  near  sundown,  downy  put  out  her  head  with  a  surprised 
and  inquiring  look,  and  then  withdrew  it  again  as  I  passed 
on. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  broods  of  the  great  crested  flycatchers 
that  have  been  reared  in  the  old  apple-tree.  This  is  by  no 
means  a  common  bird,  and  as  it  destroys  many  noxious 
insects  I  look  upon  it  with  a  friendly  eye,  though  it  is  the 
most  uncouth  and  unmusical  of  the  flycatchers. 

Indeed,  among  the  other  birds  of  the  garden  and  orchard 
it  seems  quite  like  a  barbarian. 

It  has  a  harsh,  froglike  scream,  form  and  manners  to  suit, 
and  is  clad  in  a  suit  of  butternut  brown.  It  seeks  a  cast-off 
snakeskin  to  weave  into  its  nest,  and  not  finding  one,  will 
take  an  onion  skin,  a  piece  of  oiled  paper,  or  large  fish 
scales. 

It  builds  in  a  cavity  in  a  tree,  rears  one  brood,  and  is  off 
early  in  the  season.    I  never  see  or  hear  it  after  August  ist. 

A  pair  have  built  in  a  large,  hollow  limb  in  my  old  apple- 
tree  for  many  years.  Whether  the  same  pair  or  not  I  do  not 
know.    Probably  it  is,  or  else  some  of  their  descendants. 

I  looked  into  the  cavity  one  day  while  the  mother  bird 
was  upon  the  nest,  but  before  she  had  laid  any  eggs.  A 
sudden  explosive  sound  came  up  out  of  the  dark  depths  of 
the  limb,  much  like  that  made  by  an  alarmed  cat.  It  made 
me  jerk  my  head  back,  when  out  came  the  bird  and  hurried 
off.  For  several  days  I  saw  no  more  of  the  pair,  and  feared 
they  had  deserted  the  spot.    But  they  had  not  ;   they  were 


Three  Happy  Families. 


BIRD  LIFE  IN  AN  OI.D  APPLK-TRKK. 


7 


only  more  sly  than  usual.  I  soon  discovered  an  egg  in  the 
nest,  and  then  another  and  another. 

One  day  as  I  stood  near  by,  a  male  bluebird  came  along 
with  his  mate,  prospecting  for  a  spot  for  a  second  nest.  He 
alighted  at  the  entrance  of  this  hole  and  peeped  in. 

Instantly  the  flycatcher  was  upon  him.  The  blue  was 
enveloped  by  the  butternut  brown.  The  two  fell  to  the 
ground,  where  the  bluebird  got  away,  and  in  a  moment  more 
came  back  and  looked  in  the  hole  again,  as  much  as  to  say, 
"I  will  look  into  that  hole  now  at  all  hazards." 

The  barbarian  made  a  dash  for  him  again,  but  he  was 
now  on  his  guard  and  avoided  her. 

Not  long  after,  the  bluebirds  decided  to  occupy  the  old 
cavity  of  the  downy  woodpecker  from  which  I  had  earlier  in 
the  season  expelled  the  English  sparrows.  After  they  had 
established  themselves  here  a  kind  of  border  war  broke  out 
between  the  male  bluebird  and  the  flycatchers,  and  was  kept 
up  for  weeks. 

The  bluebird  is  very  jealous  and  very  bold.  He  will  not 
even  tolerate  a  house-wren  in  the  vicinity  of  his  nest.  Kvery 
bird  that  builds  in  a  cavity  he  looks  upon  as  his  natural  rival 
and  enemy.  The  flycatchers  did  not  seek  any  quarrel  with 
him  as  long  as  he  kept  to  his  own  domicile,  but  he  could  not 
tolerate  them  in  the  same  tree. 

It  was  a  pretty  sight  to  see  this  little  blue  coat  charging 
the  butternut  through  the  trees.  The  head  of  the  latter 
would  click  like  a  gunlock,  and  its  harsh,  savage  voice  was 
full  of  anger,  but  the  bluebird  never  flinched  and  was  always 
ready  to  renew  the  fight. 

The  English  sparrow  will  sometimes  worst  the  bluebird 
by  getting  possession  of  the  box  or  cavity  ahead  of  him. 
Once  inside  the  sparrow  can  hold  the  fort,  and  the  bluebird 
will  soon  give  up  the  siege  ;  but  in  a  fair  field  and  no  favors, 
the  native  bird  will  quickly  rout  the  foreigner. 

Speaking  of  birds  that  build  in  cavities  reminds  me  of  a 
curious  trait  the  highhole  has  developed  in  my  vicinity,  one 
which  I  have  never  noticed  or  heard  of  elsewhere. 


Bird  Life  in  an  Old  Apple -Tree. 


BIRD  LIFE  IN  AN  OI.D  APPLE-TREE. 


9 


It  drills  into  buildings  and  steeples  and  telegraph  poles, 
and  in  some  instances  makes  itself  a  serious  nuisance. 

One  season  the  large  Grecian  columns  made  of  wood  of 
an  unoccupied  old-fashioned  summer  residence  near  me  were 
badly  marred  by  them.  The  bird  bored  into  one  column, 
and  finding  the  cavity  —  a  foot  or  more  across  —  not  just 
what  it  was  looking  for,  cut  into  another  one,  and  still  into 
another.  Then  he  bored  into  the  ice-house  on  the  premises, 
and  in  the  sawdust  filling  between  the  outer  and  inner 
sheathing  found  a  place  to  his  liking. 

Every  season  of  late  years  they  bore  into  the  large  ice- 
house on  the  banks  of  the  river,  and  cut  so  many  holes  and 
let  out  so  much  sawdust  that  the  men  employed  about  the 
place  have  had  to  shoot  them. 

One  bird  seemed  like  a  monomaniac,  and  drilled  holes  up 
and  down  and  right  and  left  as  if  possessed  of  an  evil  spirit. 
It  is  quite  probable  that  if  a  highhole  or  other  woodpecker 
shrould  go  crazy,  it  would  take  to  just  this  sort  of  thing, 
drilling  into  seasoned  timber  till  it  used  its  strength  up. 
The  one  I  refer  to  would  cut  through  a  dry  hemlock  board 
in  a  very  short  time,  making  the  slivers  fly.  The  sound  was 
like  that  of  a  carpenter's  hammer.  It  may  have  been  that  he 
was  an  unmated  bird,  a  bachelor  whose  suit  had  not  pros- 
pered that  season,  and  was  giving  vent  to  his  outraged 
instincts  in  drilling  these  mock  nesting-places. 


John  Burroughs. 


An  Oriole's  Nest. 


How  suggestive  is  the  oriole's  nest,  swinging  from  the 
long,  drooping  tips  of  the  old  elm  boughs  !  What  a  delightful 
cradle  it  must  be  for  the  young  orioles,  swayed  all  day  long 
by  every  breath  of  the  summer  breeze,  and  with  never  a  fear 
of  falling  !  And  the  mother-bird  must  feel  very  comfortable 
about  it  as  she  leaves  it  to  go  in  search  of  food,  for  no  bird- 
enemy  will  trouble  it  while  she  is  gone. 

The  blacksnake  —  that  horror  of  all  low-nesting  birds  — 
will  never  climb  so  high.  The  red  squirrel  —  little  cannibal 
that  he  is,  eating  flesh  when  he  has  still  a  bushel  of  nuts  and 
acorns  stowed  away  in  his  old  wall  —  cannot  find  a  footing  on 
those  delicate  branches.  The  crow  also  can  find  no  resting- 
place  from  which  to  steal  the  young,  should  he  ever  venture 
so  near  the  house  ;  and  the  hawk's  legs  are  hardly  long 
enough  to  reach  down  and  grasp  them,  should  he  perchance 
hover  over  the  nest. 

Yet  the  oriole  is  a  neighborly  little  body.  Though  her 
young  are  kept  from  harm  by  the  cunning  instinct  that  builds 
a  hanging  nest,  she  still  prefers  to  build  close  by  the  house, 
where  hawks  and  crows  and  owls  rarely  come.  She  knows 
her  friends,  and  takes  full  advantage  of  their  protection, 
returning  year  after  year  to  the  same  old  elm,  and  like  a 
provident  little  housewife,  carefully  saving  and  sorting  the 
good  threads  of  her  old  house  to  be  used  in  building  the  new. 

Of  late  years,  however,  it  has  seemed  to  me  that  the  beau- 
tiful nests  along  the  elm-lined  streets  of  New  England  towns 
are  growing  scarcer.  The  orioles  are  sunny,  peace-loving 
birds,  and  dislike  the  society  of  those  noisy,  pugnacious  little 
rascals,  the  English  sparrows.  Often  I  now  find  their  nests 
along  lonely  old  roads  in  places  where  a  few  years  ago  I 
never  saw  them  ;    and  often  a  solitary  farmhouse,  too  far 


12 


AN  oriole's  nest. 


away  from  the  town  to  be  troubled  by  sparrows,  has  two  or 
three  orioles'  nests  in  the  boughs  of  its  old  elms. 

I  know  of  three  old,  lonely  houses,  deserted  for  years,  and 
fast  falling  to  piles  of  ruins,  where  every  year  the  orioles 
return  to  build,  untroubled  by  sparrows,  and  still  protected 
by  the  old  walls  and  chimneys  from  the  presence  of  hawks 
and  crows. 

It  is  a  curious  evidence  of  the  birds'  keen  instinct,  that 
where  the  nests  are  built  on  lonely  roads  away  from  houses 
they  are  noticeably  deeper,  and  so  better  protected  from  bird- 
enemies.  The  same  thing  is  noticed  of  the  nests  that  are 
built  in  other  than  elm-trees,  and  so  have  not  the  protection 
of  the  elm's  drooping  branches. 

In  the  choice  of  building  material  the  birds  are  very 
careful.  They  know  well  that  no  branch  supports  the  nest 
from  beneath  ;  that  the  safety  of  the  young  depends  solely  on 
good  strong  material  well  woven  together.  In  some  wise  way 
they  seem  to  know  at  a  glance  whether  a  thread  is  strong 
enough  to  be  trusted  ;  but  sometimes,  in  selecting  the  first 
threads  that  are  to  bind  the  whole  nest  to  the  branches,  they 
are  unwilling  to  trust  to  appearances.  Then  a  pair  of  birds 
may  be  seen  holding  a  little  tug-of-war  with  feet  braced  and 
heads  twisted  first  on  one  side,  then  on  the  other,  till  .the 
thread  is  well  tested. 

In  gathering  the  material  also  the  birds  display  no  little 
ingenuity. 

One  warm  spring  day  a  few  years  ago  I  was  lying  under 
some  shrubs  watching  a  pair  of  orioles  that  were  building 
close  to  the  house.  It  was  a  typical  nest-making  day,  the 
sun  pouring  his  bright,  warm  rays  through  delicate  green 
leaves  and  a  glory  of  white  apple  blossoms,  the  air  filled  with 
warmth  and  fragrance,  birds  and  bees  busy  everywhere. 
Orioles  seem  always  happy,  and  to-day  they  quite  overflowed 
in  the  midst  of  the  brightness,  though  materials  were  rather 
scarce,  and  they  had  to  be  very  busy. 

The  female  was  very  industrious,  never  returning  to  the 


AN  ORIOIvK'S  NE:ST. 


13 


nest  without  some  contribution,  while  the  male  frolicked 
about  the  trees  in  his  brilliant  orange  and  black,  whistling 
his  warm,  rich  notes,  and  seeming  like  a  dash  of  southern 
sunshine  amidst  the  blossoms. 

Sometimes  he  stopped  in  his  frolic  to  find  a  bit  of  string, 
or  to  fly  with  the  female  to  the  nest,  uttering  that  soft,  rich 
twitter  of  his  as  if  in  congratulation,  whenever  she  found 
some  particularly  choice  material.  But  his  chief  part  seemed 
to  be  to  furnish  the  celebration,  while  she  took  care  of  the 
nest-making. 

Out  on  the  grass  directly  in  front  of  me  was  a  small  frag- 
ment of  white  cloth.  I  was  wondering  why  the  birds  did  not 
utilize  it  when  the  male,  in  one  of  his  lively  flights,  seemed 
to  see  it  for  the  first  time  and  flew  down.  First  he  hopped 
about  it  oh  all  sides,  then  took  hold  of  some  threads  at  one 
corner  and  tried  to  pull  them  out.  But  the  cloth  was  lying 
loose  on  the  grass,  and  whenever  he  pulled,  the  whole  piece 
came  instead  of  the  threads. 

For  a  few  moments  he  worked  diligently,  trying  a  pull  on 
every  side,  once  tumbling  over  with  a  comical  scramble  as 
the  cloth,  caught  for  a  moment  on  a  grass  stub,  gave  way 
when  he  pulled  hardest.  Quite  abruptly  he  flew  away,  and  I 
thought  he  had  given  up  the  attempt. 

But  in  a  minute  back  he  came  with  the  female,  thinking 
no  doubt  that,  as  a  prudent  little  manager,  she  would  know 
all  about  such  things.  If  birds  do  not  talk  they  have  at  least 
some  very  ingenious  ways  of  letting  one  another  know  what 
they  think  — which  amounts  to  much  the  same  thing. 

The  two  birds  worked  together  for  some  minutes,  getting 
an  occasional  short  thread,  but  not  enough  to  pay  for  the 
labor.  The  trouble  was  they  both  pulled  together,  and  the 
cloth  kept  slipping.  Once  they  unravelled  a  long  thread  by 
pulling  at  right  angles,  but  the  next  moment  they  were  on 
the  same  side  again.  Twice  they  left  it  and  came  back 
again. 

I  was  wondering  how  long  their  patience  would  last  when 


14 


AN  ORIOIvK'S  nest. 


the  female  suddenly  seized  the  cloth  by  the  corner  and  flew 
with  it  along  the  ground,  chirping  loudly  the  while.  She 
disappeared  into  a  low  crab-apple  bush  at  the  corner  of  the 
garden.    The  male  followed  a  moment  later. 

Curious  as  to  what  they  were  doing,  yet  fearing  to  disturb 
them,  I  waited  a  few  moments,  and  soon  saw  both  birds  fly 
to  the  nest,  each  with  some  long  white  threads.  This  w^as 
repeated  ;  and  while  the  orioles  w^ere  busy  at  the  nest  I  ran 
round  the  house  and  crept  down  behind  an  old  wall  where  I 
could  see  the  crab-apple. 

They  had  solved  their  problem  —  the  piece  of  cloth  was 
fastened  there  among  the  thorns  !  Soon  the  birds  came  back, 
and  seizing  the  ends  of  some  threads,  ravelled  them  out  and 
flew  away  to  their  building. 

For  nearly  an  hour  I  watched  them  while  they  worked 
from  that  bit  of  cloth  to  the  nest.  Several  times  it  slipped 
away  from  the  thorns,  but  as  often  as  it  did  so  the  birds 
carried  it  back  and  fastened  it ;  till  at  last  it  grew  so  snarled 
and  torn  that  they  could  get  no  more  threads,  and  left  it  for 
good. 

That  same  day  I  carried  out  some  bright  bits  of  worsted 
and  narrow  ribbons,  and  scattered  them  about  on  the  grass. 
The  birds  soon  found  them  and  wove  them  into  the  nest. 
For  a  time  a  gayer  little  dwelling  never  was  seen  in  a  tree. 
The  bright  bits  of  color  among  the  gray  and  white  gave  it 
always  a  holiday  appearance,  in  good  keeping  with  the  high 
spirits  of  the  two  birds.  But  by  the  time  the  young  had 
chipped  the  shell,  and  the  joyousness  of  nest-building  had 
given  place  to  the  sober  duties  of  feeding  hungry  little 
mouths,  the  rains  and  the  sun  of  summer  had  bleached  the 
bright  colors  into  a  uniform,  sober  gray. 

That  was  a  happy  family  from  beginning  to  end.  No 
accident  ever  befell  it ;  no  enemy  disturbed  its  peace.  And 
when  the  young  birds  had  flown  away  to  the  south,  I  took 
down  the  nest  I  had  helped  to  build  and  hung  it  in  my  study 
as  a  souvenir  of  my  bright  little  neighbors. 

Wm.  J.  Long. 


Crow  Ways. 


With  all  his  rascality,  the  crow  has  many  curious  and 
interesting  ways.  Indeed,  I  hardly  know  another  bird  that 
so  well  repays  a  season's  study.  Only  one  must  be  very 
patient  and  endure  frequent  disappointments  if  one  would 
learn  much  of  a  crow's  peculiarities  by  personal  observation. 

How  shy  he  is — how  cunning  and  quick  to  learn  wisdom  ! 
Yet  he  is  very  easily  fooled,  and  some  experiences  that  ought 
to  teach  him  wisdom  he  seems  to  forget  within  an  hour. 
Almost  every  time  I  go  shooting  I  get  one  or  two  crows  from 
a  flock  that  ranges  over  my  hunting-ground  by  simply  hiding 
among  the  pines  and  calling  like  a  young  crow.  It  is  aston- 
ishing to  hear  the  loud  chorus  of  haw-haws,  and  see  its 
members  come  rushing  over  the  same  grove  where  a  week 
before  they  were  fooled  in  the  same  way. 

Sometimes,  indeed,  they  seem  to  remember,  and  when  the 
pretended  young  crow  begins  his  complaint  at  the  bottom  of 
some  thick  grove,  they  collect  on  a  distant  pine-tree,  and 
haw-haw  in  vigorous  protest.  But  curiosity  gets  the  better  of 
them,  and  they  generally  compromise  by  sending  over  some 
swift,  long-winged  old  flier. 

Over  he  comes,  fast  as  he  can  fly,  and  the  crowd  stop  their 
clatter  to  watch  results.  Down  he  tumbles  through  the  pine 
tops,  at  the  report  of  a  gun  ;  and  away  they  go,  screaming 
at  the  tops  of  their  voices,  and  never  stop  till  they  are  safe 
across  the  valley.  Next  week  they  will  act  in  exactly  the 
same  way. 

Crows,  more  than  any  other  birds,  are  fond  of  excitement 
and  great  crowds.  The  slightest  unusual  object  furnishes  an 
occasion  for  an  assembly  to  investigate. 

A  wounded  bird  will  create  as  much  excitement  in  a  flock 
of  crows  as  a  railroad  accident  does  in  a  village.    All  the 


CROW  WAYS. 


17 


crows  seem  to  be  talking  at  once,  and  advising  the  poor 
fellow  what  to  do. 

When  some  prowling  old  crow  discovers  an  owl  sleeping 
away  the  sunlight  in  the  top  of  a  great  hemlock,  his  delight 
and  excitement  know  no  bounds.  There  is  a  suppressed 
excitement  in  his  very  call  that  every  crow  in  the  neighbor- 
hood understands.  Come  !  come!  everybody  come!  "  he 
seems  to  be  screaming,  as  he  circles  over  the  tree-top  ;  and 
within  two  minutes  there  are  more  crows  gathered  about 
that  hemlock  than  one  would  believe  existed  within  miles  of 
the  place. 

One  day  I  counted  over  seventy  immediately  about  a  tree 
in  which  one  of  them  had  found  an  owl,  and  there  must  have 
been  as  many  more  flying  about  the  outskirts  that  I  could  not 
count. 

At  such  times  one  can  approach  very  near  with  a  little 
caution,  and  attend,  as  it  were,  a  crow  caucus.  Though  I 
have  attended  a  great  many,  I  have  never  been  able  to  dis- 
cover any  real  cause  for  the  excitement. 

Those  nearest  the  owl  sit  about  in  the  trees,  cawing  vocif- 
erously ;  not  a  voice  is  silent.  Those  on  the  outskirts  are 
flying  rapidly  about,  making  if  possible  more  noise  than  the 
inner  ring,  and  apparently  urging  speedy  and  vigorous 
measures  against  the  culprit  they  have  discovered.  The  owl 
meanwhile  sits  hidden  in  the  green  top  blinking  and  staring 
and  puffing  out  his  long  feathers  till  he  looks  twice  his  usual 
size. 

Every  moment  two  or  three  crows  leave  the  ring  to  fly  up 
close  and  peek  in  ;  then  go  screaming  back  again.  Hopping 
about  on  their  perches,  cawing  at  every  breath,  nodding  their 
heads  and  striking  the  branches,  they  seem  for  all  the  world 
like  excited  stump-speakers.  The  din  grows  louder  and 
louder  ;  fresh  voices  are  coming  in  every  minute  ;  and  the 
owl,  wondering  in  some  vague  way  if  he  is  the  cause  of  it 
all,  flies  off  to  some  other  tree  where  he  can  be  quiet  and  go 
to  sleep.     Then  with  a  great  rush  and  clatter  the  crows 


i8 


CROW  WAYS. 


follow,  some  swift  old  crow  keeping  close  to  the  owl  and 
cawing  all  the  way  to  guide  the  whole  noisy  rabble. 

When  the  owl  stops  they  gather  round  again,  and  go 
through  the  same  performance  more 
excitedly  than  before.  So  it  contin- 
ues till  the  owl  finds  some  hollow 
tree  and  goes  in  out  of  sight  leaving 
them  to  caw  themselves  tired  ;  or 
else  finds  some  dense  pine  grove  and 
doubles  about  here  and  there  with 
that  shadowy,  noiseless  flight  of  his 
till   he   has  thrown  them  off  the 


track.  Then  he  flies 
into  the  thickest  tree 
he  can  find,  generally 
outside  the  grove  where 
the  crows  never  think 
of  looking,  and  sitting 
close   up   against  the 

trunk  blinks  his  great  yellow  eyes,  and  listens  to  the  mob 
that  go  sweeping  through  the  grove,  peering  into  every  thick 
tree,  and  searching  everywhere  for  their   lost  excitement. 


CROW  WAYS. 


19 


The  crows  give  it  up  reluctantly.  They  circle  for  a  few 
minutes  over  the  grove,  rising  and  falling  and  wheeling  with 
that  beautiful  motion  that  seems  like  the  practice  drill  of  all 
gregarious  birds  ;  then  end  by  collecting  on  some  large  tree 
at  a  distance  and  hawing  about  it  till  some  new  excitement 
calls  them  elsewhere. 

Just  why  they  grow  so  excited  over  an  owl  is  uncertain. 
I  have  never  seen  them  molest  him.  They  only  stare  at  him 
occasionally  and  make  a  great  noise  about  it.  That  they 
recognize  him  as  a  thief  and  cannibal  I  have  no  doubt.  But 
he  thieves  by  night  when  other  birds  are  abed,  and  as  they 
practise  their  own  thievery  by  open  daylight  it  may  be  that 
they  are  denouncing  him  as  an  impostor. 

Perhaps  the  owl  in  his  nightly  prowlings  sometimes 
snatches  a  young  crow  off  the  roost  —  the  great-horned  owl 
would  hardly  hesitate  to  eat  an  old  crow  if  he  could  catch 
him  napping  —  and  so  the  crows  grow  excited,  as  all  birds 
do  in  the  presence  of  their  natural  enemies.  They  make 
much  the  same  kind  of  a  fuss  over  a  hawk,  though  he  easily 
escapes  the  annoyance  by  flying  swiftly  away,  or  circling 
slowly  upward  till  the  crows  grow  dizzy  and  dare  not  follow. 

Once  I  utilized  this  habit  to  get  a  near  view  of  them.  I 
carried  out  an  old  stuffed  owl  and  set  it  up  on  a  pole  close 
against  a  great  pine-tree  on  the  edge  of  a  grove  where  a  flock 
of  crows  often  congregated.  Then  I  lay  down  in  a  thick 
clump  of  bushes  near  by  and  cawed  excitedly. 

The  first  messenger  from  the  flock  flew  straight  over  with- 
out making  any  discoveries  ;  the  second  one  found  the  owl 
and  I  had  no  need  of  further  calling.  Haw-haw  —  he  cried 
deep  down  in  his  throat  —  hej^e  he  is  !  Here' s  the  rascal !  In  a 
moment  he  had  the  whole  flock  there,  and  for  ten  minutes 
they  kept  coming  in  from  every  direction. 

A  more  excited  lot  I  never  saw.  The  cawing  was  tre- 
mendous, and  I  hoped  at  last  to  settle  the  real  cause  of  the 
excitement.  But  one  crow  flying  close  over  my  hiding-place 
discovered  me  peering  out  through  the  bushes.     How  he 


20 


CROW  WAYS. 


made  himself  heard  or  understood  in  the  din  is  a  mystery  ; 
but  the  crow  is  never  too  excited  to  heed  a  danger  note.  A 
moment  later  the  whole  flock  was  streaming  away  across  the 
woods. 

There  is  another  but  much  more  dignified  way  in  which 
the  crow's  love  of  excitement  is  manifested.  Occasionally  a 
flock  may  be  surprised  sitting  about  in  the  trees  deeply 
absorbed  in  watching  a  performance  by  one  of  themselves. 

A  crow's  chief  note  is  the  hoarse  haw-haw  with  which 
every  boy  is  familiar.  This,  indeed,  seems  capable  of 
expressing  almost  everything,  from  the  soft,  chattering  gos- 
sip of  going  to  bed  in  the  pine  tops  to  the  loud  derision  with 
which  he  detects  ordinary  attempts  to  surprise  him,  but  he 
is  not  always  confined  to  it.  Certain  crows  occasionally 
develop  unusual  vocal  ability,  and  at  times  they  seem  to 
display  it  for  the  entertainment  of  the  others.  Yet  I  suspect 
that  this  vocal  gift  is  seldom  used  or  even  discovered  till 
lack  of  excitement  throws  them  upon  their  own  resources. 
Certain  it  is  that  whenever  a  crow  exercises  his  voice  there 
are  always  several  more  about,  apparently  listening  atten- 
tively. 

One  September  afternoon,  while  I  was  walking  quietly 
through  the  woods,  my  attention  was  attracted  by  an  unusual 
sound  coming  from  an  oak  grove  near  by  —  a  favorite  haunt 
for  gray  squirrels.  The  crows  were  cawing  in  the  same 
direction,  but  every  few  minutes  would  come  a  strange 
cracking  sound  —  crrrack-a-rack-rack,  as  if  some  one  had  a 
giant  nut-cracker  and  was  snapping  it  rapidly. 

I  stole  forward  till  I  could  see  perhaps  fifty  crows  perched 
about  in  the  oaks,  all  very  attentive  to  something  going  on 
below  them  that  I  could  not  see.  Not  till  I  had  crawled  up 
to  the  brUvSh  fence  on  the  edge  of  the  grove  and  looked 
through  did  I  discover  the  object  of  their  interest.  Out  on 
the  end  of  a  long,  delicate  branch,  a  few  feet  above  the 
ground,  clung  a  small  crow.  He  was  swaying  up  and  down 
like   a   bobolink   on  a  cardinal-flower,   balancing  himself 


CROW  WAYS. 


21 


gracefully  by  spreading  his  wings,  and  every  few  minutes 
giving  the  strange  cracking  sound  with  a  vigorous  flirt  of 
his  wings  and  tail  as  the  branch  swayed  upward.  At  every 
repetition  the  audience  hawed.  I  watched  the  unusual 
performance  for  fully  fifteen  minutes  before  the  crows  saw 
me  and  flew  away. 

Several  times  since,  when  hunting,  I  have  been  attracted 
by  unusual  sounds  mingled  with  the  cawing  of  crows,  and 
surprised  the  flock  evidently  watching  a  performance.  Once 
in  the  Maine  woods  the  call  was  so  gruff  and  loud  that  I  was 
completely  deceived,  and  stole  forward  with  heavy  shells  in 
my  gun,  expecting  some  strange  animal.  The  only  musical 
sound  I  ever  heard  from  a  crow  was  a  whistling  very  much 
like  the  ioo-loo-loo  of  the  blue  jay,  who  belongs  to  the  same 
family  for  all  his  bright  colors,  but  deeper  and  louder,  and 
without  the  middle  roll  or  trill  that  always  marks  the  blue 
jay's  whistle. 

The  same  love  of  excitement  and  variety  leads  the  crows 
to  investigate  any  unusual  sight  or  sound  in  the  woods. 
Sometimes  they  follow  a  fox  which  the  hounds  have  started 
'  so  that  the  hunter  can  trace  his  exact  course,  and  reach  the 
runaway  in  time  for  a  shot.  Often  they  go  out  of  their  way 
to  warn  other  birds  and  animals  of  the  approach  of  danger. 

Once  I  saw  a  young  crow  —  I  knew  he  was  young  by  his 
nasal  voice — deliberately  play  a  practical  joke  on  the  flock 
by  hiding  under  a  thick  pine,  and  calling  them  over  again 
and  again  till  they  discovered  him  and  chased  him  away.  In 
fact,  whenever  one  hears  a  flock  of  crows  cawing  away  in  the 
pine  woods,  he  may  be  assured  that  some  excitement  is  afoot 
that  will  well  repay  his  time  and  patience  to  investigate. 

Wm.  J.  lyONG. 


A  Family  History 


Perhaps  every  reader  of  this  knows  a  robin  when  he  sees 
one,  but  it  is  one  thing  to  know  a  bird  by  name  and  quite 
another  to  know  the  bird  itself.  I  am  sure  that  no  boy  or 
girl  could  watch  a  family  of  robins,  as  I  did  for  nearly  five 
weeks,  and  ever  meet  a  robin  afterward  without  greeting  him 
as  a  friend. 

It  was  early  in  May  when  my  acquaintance  began  with 
the  family  whose  history  I  am  about  to  relate.  Then  I 
discovered  that  the  pair  had  found  a  building-site  to  their 
liking  in  a  fork  of  the  apple-tree  within  ten  feet  of  my 
window. 

All  that  day  and  the  next,  in  spite  of  the  rain,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Redbreast  were  busy  plastering  their  adobe  house.  So 
steadily  did  they  work,  collecting  sticks,  grass  and  mud,  and 
molding  and  shaping  with  breast  and  beak,  that  their  home 
was  all  ready  to  move  into  by  the  second  night. 

When  the  nest  contained  four  pretty  blue  eggs,  the  little 
wife  began  to  set.  The  male  would  occasionally  fly  up  to  the 
nest  and  offer  his  spouse  food,  with  many  a  tender  caress. 
Then  he  would  fly  into  a  neighboring  tree  and  call  to  her 
merrily,  "  Cheer  up  !  cheer  up  !  " 

She  had  been  setting  twelve  days  when  I  thought,  from 
Mr.  Redbreast's  frequent  visits  to  the  garden  for  worms,  that 
his  family  had  increased.  Of  this  I  was  not  sure  until  next 
day,  when  he  came  to  the  nest  with  a  worm  in  his  beak. 
His  mate,  instead  of  taking  it  from  him,  slowly  rose  and 
lowered  her  bill  into  the  nest  as  if  to  whisper  some  secret  to 
little  ones  there. 

Then  two  tiny  beaks  rose  to  view,  and  opened  to  receive 
the  morsel.  Next  instant  Mr.  Redbreast  was  off  for  another 
worm,  and   the   little  mother  was   lovingly  covering  her 


A  FAMILY  HISTORY. 


23 


precious  brood.    They  were  three  days  old  when  I  awoke 
one  morning  at  four  o'clock,  and  watched  them  as  they  ate 
their  morning  meal.    During  the  next  two  hours  food  was 
brought  to  the  nest 
fourteen  times,  and 
each  time  was  eaten 
as  greedily  as  if  the 
little  brood  were  on 
the  verge  of  starva- 
tion. 

So  rapidly  had  the 
young  birds  grown 
by  this  time  that  four 
heads  could  be  seen 
above  the  edge  of  the 
nest  when  the  parents 
were    away.  They 


were  not  pretty 
heads  in  that  stage 
of  development,  for 
they  were  entirely 
bare  except  for  a 
gray  fuzz,  and  the 
prominent  features 

were  an  immense  mouth  and  two  bulging  lumps  on  the  sides. 
These  lumps  opened  as  eyes  three  days  later. 

The  babies  were  now  six  days  old  and  looked  more  like 
birds,  though  still  far  from  being  objects  of  beauty.  They 
had  grown  so  large  as  nearly  to  fill  the  nest,  and  at  the 


Nest  and  Tenants. 


24 


A  FAMILY  HISTORY. 


slightest  noise  would  lift  up  their  heads  high,  and  open  their 
mouths  wide.  So  long  and  slender  were  their  necks,  their 
heads  so  wide  and  fiat,  their  beaks  so  long  and  opened  to  an 
almost  incredible  width,  that  there  was  something  uncanny 
about  them  as  they  stretched  up  and  uttered  a  queer  little 
whine  when  either  parent  brought  food. 

I  don't  know  where  Mr.  Redbreast  spent  his  nights,  but  I 
do  know  that  at  half  past  three  o'clock  on  the  morning  when 
the  young  birds  were  a  week  old,  he  flew  up  to  his  front  door 
and  fondly  saluted  his  family.  After  a  few  moments,  with  a 
parting  caress,  to  which  the  little  mother  responded  in  a  con- 
tented twitter,  he  dropped  from  the  twig  by  the  nest.  In  a 
few  minutes,  with  the  air  of  one  who  was  conscious  of  having 
done  his  duty,  he  returned  with  the  first  course  of  their 
morning  meal. 

The  first  faint  streak  of  light  was  just  showing  in  the  east, 
but  his  day's  work  had  begun.  All  day  long,  until  after 
dusk,  he  and  his  mate  were  tireless  in  their  search  for  food 
for  the  little  ones. 

The  small  folks  in  the  nest  grew  more  interesting  every 
day.  At  ten  days  of  age  they  were  pretty  well  feathered  and 
a  very  bright  family.  Two  seemed  brighter  than  the  others, 
and  were  growing  restless  in  their  crowded  nest.  They 
would  stand  upon  its  edge,  stretch  their  wings  and  necks, 
then  stand  on  one  foot,  stretch  out  the  other  leg,  and  gape 
like  a  sleepy  schoolboy.  The  home  nest  was  getting  too 
small  for  them,  and  the  poor  little  mother  was  quite  crowded 
out. 

Two  days  later  one  of  the  young  ones  mysteriously  disap- 
peared, and  I  feared  that  he  had  fallen  from  the  nest  and 
become  the  prey  of  some  prowling  cat.  But,  probably,  he 
had  flown  away,  to  begin  life  on  his  own  account. 

Now  full  fledged,  they  showed  the  robin  markings  dis- 
tinctly —  the  black  head,  the  light  ring  about  the  eye,  the 
light  throat  and  red  breast  prettily  mottled  above.  The  tail 
was  the  least  developed,  being  not  over  three-fourths  of  an 


A  FAMILY  HISTORY. 


25 


inch  in  length.  As  they  sat  in  the  nest  it  was  elevated  at 
such  an  angle  that  it  pointed  skyward,  like  the  tail  of  a  wren. 
It  seemed  incredible,  that  in  less  than  two  weeks  from  the 
time  that  they  broke  the  shell  of  the  egg,  and  in  one  week 
from  the  time  they  opened  their  eyes,  they  could  have 
developed  into  such  handsome  creatures. 

Beauties  they  were  as  they  gazed  at  me  so  knowingly 
from  above  the  edge  of  the  nest.  The  three  heads  were  close 
together,  and  each  little  face  was  full  of  expression,  while 
they  looked  fearlessly  into  my  eyes,  as  if  trying  to  under- 
stand what  sort  of  creature  I  was.  Suddenly  the  mother 
flew  into  the  tree  with  food  for  them.  Instantly  the  heads 
lifted,  the  mouths  opened  wide,  the  wings  fluttered,  and 
every  feather  bristled  with  life  and  animation. 

Their  appetites  being  satisfied,  they  settled  down  for  an 
after-dinner  nap,  with  the  three  beaks  pointing  directly  at 
me,  and  the  eyes  blinking  drowsily. 

And  a  nap  they  needed,  for  a  tremendous  quantity  of  food 
had  gone  into  their  stomachs  since  I  sat  down  at  the  window 
an  hour  earlier.  I  wondered  what  a  bird's  digestive  appa- 
ratus could  be  like,  for  worms,  bugs,  slugs  and  moths  in  great 
numbers  all  slipped  down  their  gaping  throats. 

Once,  a  spear  of  grass,  more  than  ten  inches  long,  which 
hung  from  the  father  bird's  beak,  was  eagerly  seized  by  one 
of  the  youngsters.  After  a  few  convulsive  gulps  it  disap- 
peared down  his  throat. 

But  a  robin's  life  is  too  short  to  be  spent  in  providing  food 
for  hungry  children,  when  they  are  old  enough  to  begin  to 
look  for  it  themselves. 

Several  times  during  the  day  the  mother  came  to  the  nest 
with  food,  held  it  tantalizingly  in  sight  of  the  fledglings, 
allowed  them  to  struggle  for  it,  and  then  devoured  it  herself  ! 
Was  she  urging  them  to  seek  their  own  food  by  tempting  the 
appetite  and  then  leaving  it  unsatisfied  ? 

About  live  o'clock  a  faint  chirp  from  the  tree  awoke  me. 


26 


A  FAMILY  HISTORY. 


One  of  the  small  birds  stood  on  a  limb,  with  his  back  turned 
to  his  old  home  and  the  wide  world  before  him.  Soon  the 
mother  came  with  food  for  the  remaining  ones,  but  no  sign  of 
recognition  passed  between  her  and  the  young  adventurer. 
He  flapped  his  wings  two  or  three  times,  and  with  a  hoarse 
croak  flew  clumsily  into  a  neighboring  tree.  I  did  not  see 
him  again. 

After  the  mother's  next  visit,  the  larger  bird  in  the  nest 
began  to  stretch.  He  stood  on  the  edge  of  the  nest,  and 
looked  curiously  up  and  down  among  the  branches  for  a  few 
minutes.  Then  he  spread  his  wings  and  flew  a  few  feet,  to  a 
limb  from  which  he  looked  around  with  wondering  eyes. 

The  little  bird  left  behind  settled  down  contentedly  for  a 
while,  turning  around  and  pressing  the  nest,  much  as  the 
mother  did  in  shaping  it,  and  all  of  the  time  making  a  soft, 
happy  sound,  as  if  pleased  to  have  plenty  of  room.  But  his 
contentment  did  not  last  long. 

Soon  Mrs.  Redbreast  came  with  food,  and  with  it,  I  fancy, 
she  gave  him  some  wholesome  advice,  for  she  had  no  sooner 
disappeared  than  he  showed  an  inclination  to  follow  his  late 
companion  who,  when  he  saw  the  mother  come  to  the  nest, 
turned  awkwardly  around  on  his  perch,  and  flew  a  little  way 
toward  her.    She  paid  him  no  attention. 

In  less  than  five  minutes  the  little  fellow  left  behind  mus- 
tered courage  to  try  his  wings.  With  a  desperate  spring 
from  the  side  of  the  nest,  he  settled  on  a  limb  a  few  feet  from 
the  other  bird.  The  parents  for  the  next  ten  minutes  called 
and  coaxed  and  scolded  from  a  neighboring  tree,  until  the 
youngsters  launched  out  and  flew  to  them,  one  after  the 
other.  Soon  all  were  out  of  sight,  and  my  tree  robbed  of  its 
treasures. 

A  few  days  after  the  nest  was  deserted  I  heard  a  queer, 
scratching  noise  in  the  tree,  and  saw  a  chipmunk  peeping 
over  the  side  of  the  nest,  first  at  me,  and  then  into  the  nest. 
Having  satisfied  himself  that  everything  Avas  all  right,  he 
briskly  hopped  into  the  nest,  whirled  around  in  it  two  or 


A.  FAMILY  HIStORV. 


4? 


three  times,  and  then  cuddled  down  just  as,  in  my  childish 
fancy  years  ago.  Goldilocks  cuddled  down  when  she  "tried 
the  little  bear's  bed."  But  Bunny  didn't  go  to  sleep. 
He  filled  the  nest  as  completely  as  if  it  had  been  made  for 
him,  but  it  evidently  did  not  suit  him  for  a  residence.  After 
lying  and  blinking  in  it  for  a  few  minutes,  he  sprang  out, 
scampered  down  the  trunk  of  the  tree,  and  was  soon  out  of 
sight  among  the  shrubbery. 

Emki^ink  a.  Cross. 


Red -Headed  Woodpecker. 


A  Jolly  Red -Head. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  birds  of  my  acquaintance 
is  the  red-headed  woodpecker.  In  Ohio  he  is  the  most 
abundant  species  of  the  woodpecker  family,  the  flicker 
coming  next  in  point  of  numbers.  You  may  see  him  al- 
most everywhere ;  in  the  city  as  well  as  in  the  country ; 
in  the  lowlands  and  meadows,  if  there  are  a  few  trees,  as 
well  as  in  the  uplands  ;  in  the  open  spaces  and  in  the  dense 
woods,  and  wherever  found,  he  is  the  same  jolly,  compan- 
ionable fellow.  I  suppose  every  boy  knows  this  bird,  which, 
as  Mr.  Burroughs  prettily  says,  "festoons  the  woods" 
with  red,  white  and  blue-black.  He  may  be  readily  identi- 
fied by  his  crimson  head  and  neck,  making  him  look  as 
if  he  had  plunged  up  to  his  shoulders  into  a  keg  of  red  paint. 

Like  all  other  woodpeckers,  he  is  a  hewer  of  timber, 
chiselling  out  a  parlor — or  rather,  perhaps,  a  nursery — in  a 
dead  limb  or  tree-trunk,  where  he  rears  his  young  and  trains 
them  in  the  way  they  should  go.  I  have  known  him  to 
drill  his  nest  in  a  fence-stake,  while  the  telegraph  poles 
along  the  railroad,  although  they  must  be  hard  and  tough, 
often  afford  him  a  nesting  place,  and  it  is  amusing  to  see 
him  bolt  from  his  cavity  whenever  a  train  dashes  along. 

It  is  regretted  that  our  bird  has  not  a  more  musical 
voice,  and  yet  his  well-known  g-r-r-u-k,  g-r-7'-7i-k  and  g-u-r-r-l, 
g-u-r-r-l  and  kt-r-r,  kt-r-r  are  by  no  means  disagreeable,  but 
are  suggestive  of  the  good  nature  and  buoyancy  of  spirit 
that  animate  his  bosom.  If  he  is  not  much  of  a  vocalist, 
he  still  seems  to  be  a  lover  of  music. 

Listen  to  him  as  he  plays  a  tune  on  that  shellbark 
hickory-tree,  or  beats  his  tattoo  on  the  slate  roof.  He 
evidently  engages  in  this  exercise,  in  part  at  least,  for  the 
sake  of  the  musical  effect,  else  why  should  he  drum  on  the 


30 


A  JOLLY  RE)D-HEAD. 


roof,  where  no  inseots  are  to  be  found,  or  upon  an  old  tin 
pan  that  he  has  discovered  out  on  the  commons  ?  There  has 
been  some  dispute  as  to  how  he  produces  this  quick  succes- 
sion of  raps,  several  writers  contending  that  he  does  it  by 
rapidly  striking  together  his  mandibles.  This  cannot  be  the 
true  explanation,  for  I  have  often  watched  him  at  his  rehears- 
als, and  have  always  noticed  that  the  sound  varies  according 
to  the  object  upon  which  he  hammers. 

For  instance,  if  it  is  a  large  hollow  tree,  the  sound  is 
coarse  and  resonant,  as  one  would  expect.  If  he  beats 
upon  a  piece  of  partly  loosen  bark,  his  tune  is  sharp  and 
penetrating.  On  a  tin  or  slate  roof  the  sound  is  precisely 
what  it  would  be  if  you  or  I  should  pound  rapidly  upon 
the  same  object  with  a  similar  instrument.  But  how  can 
he  beat  so  fast  with  his  bill  ?  Just  as  a  drummer-boy  deftly 
taps  his  snare-drum  so  rapidly  that  you  cannot  count  the 
strokes,  and  almost  think  that  his  drumsticks  must  be 
small  boards  rounded  at  the  end. 

Of  all  the  woodpeckers  that  I  have  studied,  the  red- 
head* is  the  most  expert  on  the  wing.  Of  course  he  follows 
the  fashion  of  the  family  when  he  flies,  going  in  a  kind  of 
gallop  from  one  perch  to  another.  But  other  woodpeckers 
seem  to  regard  flying  as  a  serious  business,  and  are  there- 
fore on  the  wing  only  as  much  as  is  necessary  to  secure 
food  and  escape  from  their  foes. 

Not  so  with  our  crimson-headed  acrobat,  who  often  per- 
forms the  most  amazing  feats  of  scaling  in  the  air  out  of 
pure  exuberance  of  spirits.  He  must  have  some  valve  of 
escape  for  his  rollicksome  nature.  And  so  he  frequently 
hurls  himself  out  into  the  air  as  if  shot  from  a  cannon, 
performs  some  exploit,  such  as  poising,  whirling,  darting 
straight  upward,  and  almost  turning  a  somersault,  and  then 
circles  gracefully  back  to  his  upright  floor  of  bark,  crying 
exultingly,  G-r-i^-e-e-l,  g-r-r-e-e-l !  which  being  interpreted 
means,  "Wasn't  that  a  clever  trick?" 

Often,  it  is  true,  he  makes  a  dash  for  an  insect,  just  as 


A  JOIXY  RED  -  HEAD. 


31 


the  wood  pewee  or  the  great  crested  flycatcher  does ;  but 
I  think  that  many  of  his  feats  are  performed  for  pure  love 
of  frolic. 

I  have  v^atched  a  dozen  or  more  of  these  birds  engaging 
in  their  wing-exercises  in  a  favorite  woodland,  which  might 
have  been  called  their  gymnasium.  They  had  selected  a 
certain  tree  for  a  point  of  departure,  and  with  loud  chat- 
tering would  dash  away  after  one  another,  describe  a  grace- 
ful circle,  and  then  plunge  back  into  the  tree. 

At  times  their  cries  seemed  to  be  half-angry.  Still,  the 
whole  performance  seemed  so  jolly  that  it  reminded  me  of 
a  company  of   children  playing  "base"  or  "black-man." 

These  birds  certainly  have  some  sense  of  humor,  and 
enjoy  a  romp  as  much  as  the  most  playful  schoolboys. 

One  of  their  favorite  pastimes  is  playing  "hide-and-seek" 
about  the  trunks  of  trees.  It  is  amusing  to  see  two  of  them 
peep  at  each  other  a  moment  around  the  bole  of  a  tree, 
and  then  jerk  their  heads  back,  precisely  as  you  have  seen 
children  do.  Besides,  they  often  play  "catch"  or  "tag," 
dashing  pell-mell  after  each  other  among  the  trees,  until 
you  wonder  they  do  not  dash  themselves  to  atoms. 

A  pair  of  bluebirds  had  a  nest  in  a  box  near  my  house 
last  spring.  They  seemed  to  be  greatly  vexed  by  the 
presence  of  a  red-head  which  was  in  the  habit  of  coasting 
on  the  maples  along  the  street.  They  would  make  a  quick 
dash  at  him,  but  the  "artful  dodger"  would  slip  dexter- 
ously around  to  the  other  side  of  the  tree  out  of  harm's 
way. 

Sometimes,  however,  he  would  stand  his  ground,  and 
present  his  long  spear  of  a  bill  to  his  enemies  as  they  flung 
themselves  at  him,  and  thus  keep  them  at  a  safe  distance  ; 
for  no  bluebird  would  care  to  impale  himself  on  the  end  of  a 
lance  like  that. 

Still  the  woodpecker  would  occasionally  lose  a  feather  by 
failing  to  be  quick  enough  to  evade  the  swift  assaults 
of  his  enemies.    I  do  not    know   whether  he  sometimes 


32 


A  JOLLY  RED -HEAD. 


makes  a  raid  on  other  birds'  nests  or  not.  I  hope  not ; 
but  I  have  noticed  that  robins  and  bluebirds  have  a  mortal 
hatred  of  him,  especially  when  he  comes  into  the  neighbor- 
hood of  their  nests. 

Speaking  of  bluebirds  in  connection  with  the  red-head, 
reminds  me  of  a  curious  freak  of  bird-behavior  that  I  ob- 
served one  day  in  July.  I  was  strolling  along  the  banks 
of  a  small  creek,  when  I  saw  a  male  bluebird  sitting  on  a 
limb  of  an  apple-tree,  while  only  a  few  feet  away,  a  red- 
head was  busy  at  work  in  a  cavity  of  the  trunk  (which  he 
had  evidently  himself  drilled),  throwing  out  the  chips  at 
a  lively  rate,  and  at  intervals  peeping  from  the  hole  to  see 
if  the  coast  was  clear. 

I  drove  both  birds  away,  and  then  watched  them  at 
some  distance.  In  a  few  minutes  the  bluebird  was  again 
at  his  post,  while  his  companion  had  gone  back  into  the 
cavity  to  ply  his  trade  of  carpentry  as  before. 

What  did  it  mean  ?  Was  the  bluebird  playing  the  role 
of  sentinel  for  the  red-head  ?  Or  was  the  woodpecker  hewing 
out  a  home  for  the  bluebird  by  way  of  accommodation  ? 
Or  was  the  bluebird  only  biding  his  time  until  the  cavity 
should  be  done,  when  he  intended  to  drive  the  busy  toiler 
away,  and  occupy  the  nest  himself  ?  I  have  never  been 
able  to  come  to  a  decision  in  the  matter. 

From  youth  to  old  age  our  bird  is  a  cunning,  tricksy 
spirit.  Ah  !  yes,  there  is  the  red-head,  junior — but  his  head 
is  black  instead  of  crimson  ;  so  that  we  may  say  without 
contradicting  ourselves  that  he  is  a  black-headed  red-head. 
He  is  a  quaint  lad.  I  have  seen  him  clinging  to  the  feathers 
of  the  parent  bird,  as  a  child  to  his  mother's  skirts,  scream- 
ing for  something  to  eat. 

But  when  his  stomach  is  full  of  titbits,  he  and  his 
playmates  have  rare  sport  tobogganing  (though  they  usually 
prefer  to  go  uphill  instead  of  down)  on  the  trunks  of  trees, 
playing  hide-and-seek,  and  flying  race. 

Leander  S.  Keyser. 


The  Carrier- Pigeon  in  America. 


Amateur  owners  and  breeders  of  carrier-pigeons  are 
numbered  by  the  thousands  in  this  country.  Nearly  every 
city  has  a  club  or  association  devoted  to  the  breeding  and 
flying  of  these  interesting  birds.  It  is  the  opinion  of  good 
judges  that,  after  a  few  generations,  birds  bred  and  flown  in 
the  United  States  become  stronger  and  more  sagacious  than 
the  European  stock  from  which  they  are  descended.  Some  of 
the  best  records,  both  for  distance  flown  and  for  time,  have 
been  made  by  the  pigeons  of  American  fanciers. 

The  use  of  a  carrier-pigeon  post  during  the  siege  of 
Paris  is  a  familiar  fact.  Newspapers,  letters  and  despatches 
were  reduced  to  diminutive  size  by  photography,  and 
entrusted  to  carrier  birds,  which  had  been  brought  out  of 
Paris  in  balloons,  and  were  thus  carried  back  into  the 
beleaguered  city  over  the  heads  of  the  German  army. 
During  several  months  the  pigeon-post  was  the  only  means 
by  which  the  besieged  city  received  news  from  the  outside 
world. 

But  in  spite  of  the  telegraph,  the  telephone  and  the  regular 
post,  the  services  of  pigeons  are  still  often  put  to  practical 
use  in  Europe.  This  is  particularly  the  case  in  Belgium  and 
the  north,  of  France,  where  they  are  most  extensively  bred. 
They  are  often  employed  successfully  in  carrying  reports  of 
speeches  and  other  news  from  distant  points  to  the  Paris  and 
Brussels  newspapers. 

American  pigeon-fanciers  have  not  devoted  much  attention 
to  the  practical  side  of  their  favorite  diversion.  Pigeon-flying 
here  is  regarded  merely  as  a  sport,  and  its  principal  object  is 
the  making  of  "  records."  There  exists,  however,  near  New 
York  City  a  flock  of  these  birds  which  demonstrates  how 
easily  they  can  be  employed  for  a  useful  purpose. 


34 


THE  CARRIER  -  PIGPZON  IN  AMERICA. 


About  forty  miles  from  New  York,  amid  the  hills  of  Som- 
erset County,  New  Jersey,  a  New  York  banker  has  a  country 
estate,  to  which  he  has  given  the  name  of  Chetola. 

It  is  several  miles  distant  from  the  nearest  railroad  and 
telegraph  station.    The  proprietor  has  found  a  prompt  means 


The  Carrier- Pigeon. 


of  communicating  with  his  place  of  business  in  the  employ- 
ment of  trained  pigeons;  and  the  "Aerial  Messenger 
Company,  I^imited,"  as  the  Chetola  flock  is  called  by  its 
owner,  has  attained  a  high  state  of  efficiency  in  its  work. 

About  twenty-five  birds  are  engaged  in  the  service.  They 


'THE  CARRIER-PIGKON  IN  AMERICA. 


35 


are  the  descendants  of  several  pairs  of  Antwerp  carriers 
imported  by  the  owner.  In  appearance  they  are  quite 
handsome,  being  longer  in  the  body  than  the  ordinary 
pigeon,  with  slim  necks,  bright,  intelligent  eyes,  and  large 
wings  supplied  with  the  abundance  of  muscular  power  neces- 
sary to  sustain  them  in  long  and  rapid  journeys. 

The  general  color  of  the  birds  is  a  slate-gray,  with  mark- 
ings on  the  wings  and  body  of  a  darker  hue,  melting  on  the 
neck  and  back  into  rainbow  shades  —  the  poetical,  lively  iris 
of  the  "  burnish 'd  dove." 

Their  residence  is  a  roomy  loft  over  one  of  the  farm  build- 
ings. Here  they  are  provided  with  all  the  luxuries  a  pigeon 
can  desire,  including  feeding-places  constantly  supplied  with 
provender,  and  a  continuous  flow  of  water  for  drinking  and 
bathing.  Exceedingly  fastidious  birds,  scrupulously  neat  as 
to  their  plumage,  their  dwelling-place  must  be  kept  in  a 
condition  of  order  and  cleanliness. 

The  practical  working  of  this  Aerial  Messenger  service  is 
simple.  The  birds  are  accustomed  to  being  handled,  and  are 
not  dismayed  when  some  of  their  number  are  taken  from  the 
loft,  placed  in  a  wicker  hamper,  and  carried  by  the  railroad 
to  New  York. 

Indeed,  as  some  of  them  are  always  kept  on  hand  at  their 
owner's  city  office,  they  are  habituated  to  this  experience, 
and  remain  with  apparent  contentment  in  temporary 
seclusion. 

While  thus  waiting  for  duty,  their  food  and  water  are 
restricted  to  a  minimum.  When  a  message  is  to  be  entrusted 
to  them,  it  is  written  out  on  a  piece  of  very  thin  paper  about 
three  inches  square.  This  is  folded  lengthwise  into  narrow 
compass,  and  one  of  the  birds  being  taken  from  the  hamper, 
the  strip  of  paper  is  firmly  attached  to  one  of  its  tail  feathers 
by  means  of  a  piece  of  fine  wire. 

A  vigorous  pull  is  always  given  to  the  feather  to  make  sure 
that  it  is  not  loose.  Then  a  window  is  opened,  and  the  bird 
let  loose. 


THE  CARRIER- PIGp:0N  IN  AMERICA. 


37 


Instantly  gaining  its  wings,  it  rises  above  the  lofty  build- 
ings of  the  city,  and  without  hesitation,  strikes  out  in  the 
direction  of  its  home  in  New  Jersey. 

In  from  forty  minutes  to  an  hour  the  little  messenger  from 
Wall  Street  alights  at  its  cote  in  the  country.  The  entrance 
has  a  light  swinging-door,  which  the  bird  easily  pushes 
aside.  In  its  desire  for  food  and  a  bath  after  its  long  flight, 
it  usually  wastes  no  time  in  entering. 

The  door  has  an  electrical  attachment  which  signals  the 
appearance  of  a  bird  by  ringing  a  bell  in  the  mansion.  Some 
one  at  once  goes  to  the  pigeon  loft,  captures  the  newly 
arrived  messenger,  and  relieves  it  of  the  note  it  carried. 

In  this  way  the  master  of  the  establishment  can  be  kept 
by  his  partners  and  clerks  fully  informed  of  what  is  going  on 
in  the  city. 

Each  bird  in  the  service  bears  on  its  leg  a  light  brass  ring, 
upon  which  its  number  is  inscribed.  A  careful  record  is  kept 
of  each  trip  a  bird  makes,  and  of  the  time  it  requires.  Most 
of  the  flock  have  made  the  journey  many  times. 

This  precision  was  not  attained  without  care  and  atten- 
tion. Some  birds,  especially  young  and  untried  ones,  never 
reappeared  at  their  home  after  being  despatched.  They  may 
fall  victims  to  hawks  or  to  undiscriminating  gunners.  Some- 
times they  are  enticed  from  their  duty  by  the  prospect  of  food 
on  the  way,  or  join  flocks  of  ordinary  pigeons  which  they 
encounter. 

Carrier-doves,  like  men,  include  some  stupid  and  lazy 
individuals.  Those  who  succumb  to  danger  or  temptation 
are  caught  or  shot.  The  lazy  birds,  when  freed,  prefer  to 
sun  themselves  on  a  roof  rather  than  proceed  with  their  mes- 
sage. Or  on  arriving  at  their  home  they  roost  for  a  time  on  a 
tree  before  entering  their  hospitable  loft. 

But  by  weeding  out  the  weak  or  incompetent,  by  training 
the  young  birds  to  duty  by  flying  them  on  gradually  increas- 
ing distances,  and  above  all  by  making  their  home  attractive 
to  them,  this  corps  of  feathered  messengers  has  been  brought 


3^ 


ME  CARRIER-PIGEON  IN  AMERICA. 


to  a  state  of  assured  efficiency.  The  "old  stagers"  have 
learned  to  avoid  peril,  to  disdain  allurements,  and  to  attend 
strictly  to  business. 

On  one  occasion  a  pair  from  this  Chetola  flock  combined 
an  important  business  service  with  a  long  distance  flight. 

Their  master  left  New  York  in  summer  to  spend  some 
days  at  a  fishing  station  on  the  New  England  coast,  three 
hundred  miles  away  from  New  York.  He  took  with  him  a 
hamper  containing  a  few  birds,  intending  to  test  them  on  a 
long  distance  journey.  The  place  at  which  he  was  staying 
was  an  isolated  spot,  far  from  a  telegraph  office,  and  was 
reached  only  by  a  steamboat  on  alternate  days.  One 
morning,  after  the  steamboat  had  come  and  gone,  he  found 
that  it  had  brought  him  a  message  from  New  York  in  regard 
to  an  important  matter  of  business.  An  immediate  answer 
was  required,  as  the  subject  involved  a  considerable  amount 
of  money. 

There  was  no  way  of  sending  a  message  for  several  days. 
He  resolved  to  make  use  of  his  birds.  He  wrote  the  neces- 
sary instructions  to  his  representatives  in  duplicate.  The 
messages  were  attached  to  two  of  the  birds,  which  were 
liberated  at  about  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon. 

The  next  morning  at  seven  o'clock  the  gallant  carriers, 
having  flown  three  hundred  miles  over  an  unfamiliar  country, 
rang  the  bell  that  communicated  with  their  loft  in  New 
Jersey.  The  messages  were  secured,  and  sent  to  New 
York  at  once  ;  and  the  next  mail  brought  the  owner  of  the 
birds  the  information  that  his  orders  had  been  successfully 
carried  out. 

On  this  occasion  alone,  he  says,  the  performance  of  the 
two  birds  repaid  him  a  hundredfold  for  all  the  trouble  or 
expense  his  faithful  little  feathered  employes  had  ever  cost 
him. 

Henry  Edward  Wali^ace. 


The  Partridg-e. 


An  interesting  incident  to  me  the  past  season  was  seeing, 
on  two  occasions,  a  partridge  sitting  upon  her  nest  in  the 
woods.  It  was  an  incident  which  one  does  not  witness  every 
season. 

One  of  the  partridges  had  come  up  out  of  the  dense  woods 
and  nested  near  a  path  on  the  edge  of  a  large  cemetery.  A 
bevy  of  schoolgirls,  after  wild  flowers  in  May,  first  discovered 
her.  Their  skirts  almost  brushed  her  before  she  stirred. 
Her  nest  was  at  the  foot  of  an  oak  a  few  yards  from  the 
open  ground.  She  could  command  the  approaches  in  all 
directions,  and  fly  whichever  way  she  chose. 

My  friend  and  I  approached  to  within  a  few  yards  of  her, 
and  stood  and  regarded  her  to  our  hearts'  content.  Her 
color  so  blended  her  with  surrounding  objects  that  she  was 
practically  invisible.  On  such  occasions  the  bird  is  as 
motionless  as  a  stone,  till  she  springs  from  her  nest  and  is  off 
on  booming  wing. 

We  did  not  disturb  her  this  time,  but  withdrew  as  gently 
as  we  had  approached.  The  brood  was  soon  out  and  off,  and 
I  hope  prosperous. 

The  other  partridge  was  sitting  upon  her  nest  in  the  woods 
near  an  old  road  but  little  used.  As  it  was  late  June,  it  was 
probably  her  second  attempt  at  rearing  a  family.  This  is  the 
more  probable  as  she  was  sitting  upon  only  five  eggs,  when 
from  twelve  to  fifteen  are  the  usual  complement.  Indeed,  it 
may  have  been  her  third  attempt. 

Under  the  guidance  of  Martin,  who  lived  near  by,  we 
approached  and  observed  her  from  the  road  a  few  paces  away. 
Martin  had  a  task  to  pilot  our  eyes  to  the  exact  spot.  One 
had  to  pass  his  eyes  over  the  ground  as  he  passes  his  hand 
over  a  table  in  the  dark  to  find  a  pin. 


The  Partridge. 


THE  PARTRIDGE. 


41 


She,  too,  was  at  the  foot  of  a  tree,  but  the  red  leaves  and 
the  gray  bark  and  the  brown  fragments  of  wood  were  all 
copied  in  her  plumage. 

Presently  we  made  her  out,  and  then  we  wondered  we  had 
not  seen  her  before.  After  some  moments  we  took  a  few 
steps  toward  her,  when  she  went  humming  away.  As  she 
left  the  nest,  she  fanned  the  dry  leaves  so  with  her  wings  that 
several  of  them  sprang  up  and  settled  upon  the  eggs,  quite 
covering  them. 

I  have  observed  this  before.  It  is  probably  the  result  of 
design  on, the  part  of  the  bird.  The  nest  is  usually  little 
more  than  a  depression  in  the  dry  leaves,  but  its  simplicity 
may  be  the  result  of  a  shrewd  wisdom.  If  the  bird  ran  from 
her  nest  before  taking  flight,  she  would  seem  to  run  less  risk 
of  breaking  her  eggs  by  the  sudden  withdrawal  of  her  feet 
from  among  them  ;  but  in  that  case  they  would  not  be  cov- 
ered up  by  the  leaves,  as  they  usually  are  when  she  takes 
flight  directly  from  the  nest. 

Martin  kept  his  eye  on  the  nest  for  me,  and  noted  what 
time  elapsed  after  the  young  were  out  of  the  shell  before  they 
were  led  away  by  the  parent  bird.  One  morning  he  visited 
them  at  nine  o'clock,  and  the  young  were  just  out,  as  they 
were  still  moist.  Apparently  they  had  all  hatched  at  the 
same  time. 

At  noon  he  visited  the  place  again,  and  found  the  nest 
empty  ;  the  brood  was  a  few  yards  away.  So  brief  is  the 
period  of  helplessness  of  these  creatures  !  After  they  can  run 
they  have  little  need  of  wings.  The  tactics  of  the  mother  and 
their  own  wit  and  protective  coloring  shield  them  most 
effectively. 

As  you  come  suddenly  upon  them,  does  the  mother  bird 
flee  and  tell  her  young  to  follow  ?  Not  a  bit  of  it.  She 
springs  up  with  spread  wings  and  tail,  and  would  fain  fill  the 
space  all  about  you  with  her  presence  and  the  sound  of  her 
wings  and  voice.  She  makes  herself  just  as  conspicuous  and 
noisy  as  possible,  and  sets  every  dry  leaf  in  commotion  all 


Waiting  to  hear  him  drum. 


THE  PARTRIDGE. 


43 


about  her.  Under  cover  of  this  bluster  the  young  scatter  and 
hide  in  a  twinkling.  Before  you  have  got  over  your  surprise 
they  have  vanished  like  spirits,  and  the  parent  bird,  lame  and 
halt  and  apparently  blind,  flutters  along  before  you,  tempting 
you  to  stoop  and  pick  her  up,  till  she  has  lured  you  a  few 
yards  away,  when  she  suddenly  recovers  herself  and  is  gone. 

Seeing  how  you  have  been  fooled,  you  return  to  the  spot 
and  search  for  the  young  ;  but  I  have  never  known  a  person 
to  find  one  under  such  circumstances. 

I  once  caught  one  by  refusing  to  have  my  attention 
diverted  by  the  mother,  and  concentrating  it  on  the  young. 
One  of  them  squatted  amid  the  leaves  which  its  parent's 
wings  had  set  in  motion,  and  I  picked  it  up,  when  it  squatted 
in  the  palm  of  my  open  hand. 

After  they  can  fly,  the  brood  when  disturbed  scatter  in  all 
directions.  The  mother  gives  the  signal,  when  up  they  all 
spring  like  an  explosion.  Union  may  be  strength,  but  the 
young  partridges  know  it  is  not  safety  for  them.  I^ater  in 
the  fall,  when  full  grown,  they  will,  on  being  flushed,  usually 
all  take  the  same  general  direction. 

The  hardiness  and  the  cunning  of  the  partridge  will  prob- 
ably ensure  its  continuance  in  our  woods  in  the  face  of  all 
the  guns  and  traps  that  are  brought  against  it.  It  takes 
advantage  of  every  circumstance.  Think  of  it  plunging 
beneath  the  snow  and  passing  the  night  there,  snug  and 
warm ;  or  of  sitting  down  and  letting  the  falling  snow 
bury  it. 

When  the  hunter  or  walker  comes  upon  it  at  such  times, 
there  is  a  sudden  explosion  in  the  snow  at  his  feet  as  if  some 
kind  of  frost  cannon  or  mortar  had  been  discharged,  and  he 
sees  the  brown  missile  go  humming  through  the  woods  before 
him. 

When  the  partridge  cannot  get  food  upon  the  ground,  it 
can  get  buds  upon  the  trees.  Birch  buds  are  its  favorite,  and 
when  it  wants  a  change  it  visits  in  the  early  morning  the 
apple-trees  in  the  orchard,  or  the  wild  apple-trees  in  the 


44 


THE  PARTRIDGE. 


remote  pasture.  It  is  said  that  the  complacent  wa}^  in  which 
the  partridge  allows  itself  to  be  snowed  under  sometimes 
brings  it  to  grief.  The  storm  changes  to  rain  before  morning, 
and  then  as  suddenl}^  it  becomes  cold  and  freezes,  thus  form- 
ing a  crust  beneath  which  the  luckless  bird  is  imprisoned.  I 
have  never  seen  anything  of  this  kind,  and  cannot  believe 
that  this  shrewd  bird  is  often  caught  napping  in  this  way. 

The  partridge  has  a  cunning  enemy  in  the  fox,  but  I  am 
convinced  that  Renard  does  not  often  have  this  choice  morsel 
for  his  dinner.  The  oldest 
hunters  report  having  seen  but 
little  evidence  of  this  fact. 

The  hawk,  too,  rarely  sur- 
prises it.  I  remember  that  once 
when  I  was  a  boy,  on  return- 
ing from  the  hay-field  at  noon, 
we  found  a  partridge,  nearly 
grown,  at  the  edge  of  the  woods 
with  its  head  partly  torn  off, 
evidently  b}^  the  stroke  of  a 
hawk.  Nests  are  probably  more 
often  broken  up  by  crows  and  skunks.  The  partridge  is 
preeminently  the  game  bird  of  this  country.  It  abounds 
almost  everywhere,  and  it  is  alwa3'S  a  challenge  to  the  best 
skill  of  the  sportsman.  The  hunting  of  it  is  full  of  surprises 
and  disappointments.  It  is  a  kind  of  bitter-sweet  pleasure, 
and  hence  about  the  most  tonic  pastime  the  country  affords. 

The  country  boy  does  not  hope  to  shoot  it  on  the  wing  in 
true  sportsman  fashion  ;  this  is  a  feat  almost  beyond  his 
belief.  He  hopes  to  see  it  on  the  ground  or  in  a  tree,  and 
kill  it  before  it  takes  flight  ;  and  once  in  five  or  six  years,  if 
he  is  diligent,  he  will  do  so. 

The  first  time  I  ever  carried  a  gun  alone  into  the  woods  I 
killed  my  first  partridge.  The  gun  was  an  old  flint-lock 
musket,  which  my  father  had  loaded  for  me.  The  partridge 
was  upon  the  ground  beside  a  small  fallen  tree  ;  and  she  was 


THE  PARTRIDGE. 


45 


evidently  a  kind-hearted  bird,  and  wanted  to  give  the  boy  a 
chance.  She  jumped  upon  the  trunk  of  this  little  tree  three 
or  four  rods  from  me  and  began  to  walk  back  and  forth  upon 
it  with  spread  tail  and  elevated  ruff,  and  uttering  some 
chiding  note,  as  if  to  say,  "  Now,  little  boy,  now  fire  away." 

I  could  not  hold  the  old  musket  out  at  arm's  length,  so  I 
sat  down  by  a  small  bush,  rested  the  gun  upon  a  twig,  took 
aim  and  began  to  pull  the  trigger. 

I  felt  it  begin  to  yield,  and  in  half  a  breath  expected  the 
crash  to  come,  when  the  twig  broke  and  let  my  gun  down 
upon  the  ground. 

Still  the  game  came  promenading  up  and  down  the  pros- 
trate tree,  jerking  her  tail  and  threatening  to  be  off  if  I  fooled 
much  longer.  I  lifted  the  gun  to  another  branch,  took  aim 
again,  and  pulled  desperately. 

The  gun  was  discharged,  and  the  grouse  lay  fluttering 
upon  the  leaves.  I  carried  it  home  in  great  pride.  Mother 
cooked  it  for  me,  and  it  was  a  part  of  my  fare  on  the  first 
journey  I  ever  made  out  of  my  native  county.  This  expe- 
rience convinced  me  that  the  partridge  was  a  very  easy  bird 
to  kill  ;  but  it  was  years  before  I  killed  another  one,  and  it 
was  not  because  I  did  not  make  the  effort  to  do  so. 

I  did  not  find  another  bird  so  skeptical  of  my  ability  to 
injure  it. 

John  Burroughs. 


Ostrich  -  Farming. 


Ostrich-farming  was  introduced  into  South  America, 
whose  pampas  or  great  plains  are  peculiarly  suited  to  this 
bird,  in  1878,  by  direct  importation  from  South  Africa. 
There  is  a  species  of  the  ostrich  native  to  South  America, 
but  it  is  only  half  as  large  as  the  South  African  species, 
and  its  plumes  are  not  so  valuable. 

The  South  African  ostrich  stands  seven  or  eight  feet 
in  height,  and  weighs,  when  full  grown,  about  one  hundred 
pounds.  The  color  of  the  plumage  of  the  male  is  black 
and  white,  and  of  that  of  the  female  either  dark  gray  or 
light  brown.    The  female  is  quite  as  large  as  the  male. 

The  ostrich's  small  head,  which  is  not  much  larger  than 
that  of  a  goose,  indicates  a  small  brain  and  little  intelli- 
gence. The  long  neck  and  legs,  contrasting  with  the  small 
head  and  body,  give  the  bird  an  ungainly  appearance. 

Ostriches  eat  almost  anything  vegetable  —  grain,  fruits  of 
all  kinds,  potatoes,  carrots,  beets,  and  so  on,  besides  grass, 
clover,  and  various  weeds.  Their  digestion  is  powerful, 
and,  to  aid  it,  they  continually  accumulate  in  the  gizzard 
small  pebbles  and  sand. 

The  female*  is  exceedingly  careless  about  her  eggs, 
laying  them  in  any  slight  hollow,  and  often  deserting  her 
nest.  The  rearing  of  the  birds,  therefore,  would  hardly  be 
profitable,  if  the  hatching  were  not  done  by  artificial  heat. 
In  some  cases  the  females  lay  as  many  as  fifty  eggs  in  a 
season,  but  oftener  not  more  than  twenty-five  or  thirty. 

The  illustration  represents  the  ostrich  farm  of  Mr. 
Ambrose  Sapello,  at  Las  Piedras,  near  Montevideo,  Uruguay. 
Mr.  Sapello  was  the  first  to  introduce  ostriches  into  South 
America  from  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  where,  for  twenty 
years,  the  profitableness  of  raising  ostriches  had  been  dem- 


OSTRICH  -  FARMING. 


47 


onstrated.  This  farm  now  supports  one  hundred  and  ten 
ostriches.  They  are  kept  in  pairs,  and  each  pair  is  allotted 
a  space  of  about  two  acres,  which  is  .sown  to  grass,  and  has 
in  one  corner  a  small  hut  in  which  the  birds  find  shelter 
in  wet  weather. 

These  small  lots  are  surrounded  by  a  common  wire  or 
picket  fence,  about   six    feet  high.     The    birds,  kept  in 


An  Ostrich  Farm. 


constant  sight  of  human  beings,  are  not  easily  frightened. 
They  have  a  great  deal  of  curiosity  ;  they  approach  to  wathin 
a  few  feet  of  a  person,  and,  if  not  interfered  with,  investigate 
with  their  great  bills  any  bright  object,  such  as  a  watch- 
chain,  locket,  or  breast-pin  ;  but  a  sudden  movement  with  the 
hand  causes  them  to  run  clumsily  but  rapidly  to  what  they 
consider  a  safe  distance. 


48 


OSTRICH  -  FARMING. 


The  thick-shelled  egg  of  the  ostrich  is  twenty  times  as 
large  as  an  ordinary  hen's  egg,  and  its  weight  is  about  two 
pounds.  Before  the  eggs  are  placed  in  the  incubator,  or 
hatching-box,  each  one  is  placed  in  a  long  box  which  has  at 
one  end  a  lamp  and  at  the  other  end  a  small  opening  for 
observation.  If  the  egg  is  fruitful,  an  opaque  spot  will  be 
observed  in  the  3^olk.  If  the  yolk  has  a  uniform  density  it  is 
worthless. 


Young  Ostriches. 


The  eggs  which  pass  this  test  are  carefully  placed  in  a 
cabinet  consi.sting  of  a  series  of  drawers,  in  which  they  rest 
upon  soft  felt.  The  temperature  is  raised  to  the  required 
height  by  means  of  hot  water  from  a  large  boiler  near  by.  A 
thermometer  attached  to  each  drawer  shows  the  exact  heat. 
The  temperature  is  kept  between  ninety-nine  and  one  hun- 
dred and  two  degrees  Fahrenheit. 

At  interval's  of  seven  or  eight  days  the  eggs  are  turned 
over,  and,  during  all  the  handling,  great  care  is  taken  to 


OSTRICH  -  FARMING. 


49 


avoid  sudden  jars.  The  period  of  incubation  is  forty-two 
days  —  just  twice  as  long  as  that  required  for  the  ordinary 
hen's  egg.  The  young  ostrich  is  about  the  size  of  a  young 
pullet,  when  hatched,  and  has  a  brownish  color,  which  gives 
him  the  appearance  of  an 
overgrown  partridge.  Not 
until  they  are  half-grown 
do  the  male  birds  begin  to 
differ  in  color  from  the 
females. 

The  young  chicks  are 
fed  upon  bran,  corn-meal 
and  green  leaves,  and  grow 
rapidly.  In  six  weeks  they 
are  as  large  as  turkeys, 
and  at  three  months  they 


Ostrich -Farming  in  South  America. 


are  four  feet  in  height.  The  first  ostriches  brought  from  Cape 
Town  to  South  America  w^ere  sold  for  prices  which  would 
seem  excessive  if  the  profits  of  the  business  were  not  consid- 
ered. Twelve  hundred  and  even  sixteen  hundred  dollars 
were  paid  for  one  pair  of  birds.  The  freight  charge  alone, 
upon  forty  ostriches  imported  by  Mr.   Sapello  from  Cape 


50 


OSTRICH  -  FARMING. 


Town,  was  nearly  four  thousand  dollars.  The  usual  price 
now  is  about  three  hundred  dollars  for  a  single  pair  of 
ostriches  raised  in  South  America.  The  importation  from 
Cape  Town  has  practically  ceased,  since  the  birds  do  not 
lose  by  being  bred  in 
America,  but  rather 
gain  in  the  quality  of 
the  plumage.  A  pair 
of  half  -  grown  os- 
triches, six  months 
to  a  year  old,  are 
worth  about  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  dollars. 
The  birds  are  first 
plucked  at  nine  or  ten 
months,  and  thereaf- 
ter every  six  months. 
Plumes  taken  from 
the  living  ostrich  are 
finest. 

To  obtain  them, 
the  bird  is  imprisoned 
in  a  kind  of  cage  — 
a  small  box-stall,  on 
wheels,  with  a  door 
at  each  end. 

Into  this  the  os- 
trich is  driven  and 
the  door  is  fastened. 
Portions  of  the  sides 
of  the  stall  are  ar- 
ranged to  let  down  on 

hinges,  and  through  the  openings  thus  made  the  plucking 
and  cutting  of  the  feathers  is  done.  This  caution  is  neces- 
sary in  order  to  escape  the  powerful  feet  of  the  bird,  for 
though  the  ostrich  is  not  vicious,  it  is  dangerous  in  close 


A  Full -Grown  Ostrich. 


OSTRICH  -  FARMING. 


51 


quarters.  A  blow  from  the  wing  of  a  full-grown  ostrich  has 
not  infrequently  been  known  to  break  a  man's  arm  or  leg. 
The  limited  intelligence  of  the  bird  is  taken  full  advantage  of 
in  its  management. 

The  smaller  feathers  are  plucked.  The  plumes  of  the 
wings  and  the  larger  feathers  are  cut,  leaving  imbedded  a 
stump  of  the  feather  some  four  inches  in  length.  After  a 
lapse  of  some  two  weeks  or  a  month  these  stumps  are  pulled 
out  from  the  wings  with  a  pair  of  pincers.  They  have 
shrunk  in  this  time  to  such  an  extent  as  to  make  their 
removal  easy  and  painless.  When  the  plucking  is  finished, 
the  ostrich  is  released  through  the  front  door  of  the  stall. 

The  yield  can  be  counted  upon  almost  to  a  certainty  as  to 
the  number  of  feathers,  but  the  price  varies  with  the  quality. 
The  South  American  plumes  are  considered  in  London  and 
Paris  equal  to  those  of  South  Africa,  if  not  superior  to  them. 

Two  dozen  large  plumes  are  plucked  or  cut  from  each 
wing.  Those  cut  from  the  male  bird  are  pure  white,  except 
two,  which  are  partly  white  and  partly  black.  The  long 
plumes  cut  from  the  wings  of  the  female  are  white  and  gray. 
In  addition  to  the  long  plumes  from  the  wings  of  the  male, 
there  are  about  three  ounces  of  smaller  black  feathers,  and, 
from  either  male  or  female,  about  forty  ounces  of  tail  and 
breast-feathers.  About  three  pounds  of  feathers  are  taken 
from  each  ostrich. 

The  first  plucking,  when  the  bird  is  only  nine  or  ten 
months  old,  yields,  at  the  present  wholesale  prices,  five  or  six 
dollars'  worth  of  feathers  to  each  bird.  The  yield  increases 
from  year  to  year,  until  the  ostrich  has  its  full  growth, — 
about  two  and  a  half  to  three  years, —  when  the  clip  from 
each  is  worth  about  forty  dollars. 

Henry  H.  Barroi.1.. 


* 


A  Widow's  Mites. 


One  bright  day  in  June,  as  I  delved  in  my  little  garden  a 
loud  humming  close  at  hand  caused  me  suddenly  to  look  up. 
I  was  a  trifle  surprised  to  see,  poised  in  mid-air  some  six  feet 
from  my  head,  an  excited  specimen  of  that  dainty  tropical 
visitant,  the  ruby-throated  humming-bird. 

Ten  seconds  later  the  bird  was  gone  like  a  flash,  but  only 
to  perch  on  a  twig  of  the  nearest  tree,  there  to  sit  and  watch 
my  movements  with  evident  concern. 

Ignorant  of  birds  and  their  habits  though  I  was,  the  little 
creature's  conduct  seemed  to  me  very  peculiar,  so  I  waited  to 
see  what  would  come  next. 

In  less  than  five  minutes  the  bird  darted  into  the  air, 
circled  about  twice  or  thrice,  and  then,  dashing  back  to  the 
tree,  suddenly  dropped,  light  as  a  feather  and  without  pre- 
liminary perching  after  the  usual  manner  of  birds,  full  upon 
her  nest. 

There  she  sat  in  plain  sight,  as  indeed  she  must  have 
done  for  several  days,  though  hitherto  I  had  failed  to  see  her. 
The  nest  was  so  tiny,  so  exactly  the  color  of  the  bough  that 
held  it,  and  so  shielded  by  overhanging  leaves  as  to  be  very 
hard  to  find,  even  after  one  knew  its  position  ;  and  yet  it  was, 
as  I  have  said,  in  full  sight  all  the  time. 

Luckily  I  have  a  neighbor  who  is  deeply  versed  in  bird- 
lore  ;  to  him  I  hastened  with  the  story  of  my  discovery.  An 
hour  later  we  took  advantage  of  the  bird's  temporary  absence 
to  inspect  the  nest. 

We  found  that  we  could  easily  look  from  the  top  of  a 
small  step-ladder  directly  down  upon  the  two  tiny  white  eggs 
lying  in  their  cup-shaped  bed  of  downy  vegetable  fibre,  and 
could  examine  closely  the  exquisite  workmanship  of  the  nest 
itself.    It  was  saddled  upon  a  drooping  bough  some  ten  feet 


54 


A  widow's  MITEvS. 


from  the  ground.    It  was  made  of  vegetable  floss,  soft  as  the 
finest  wool,  and  was  completely  covered  on  the  outside  with 
bits  of  lichen  to  make  it  look  like  the  mossy  wood  that  sup- 
ported it.    How  anxiously  did  we 
watch  that  tiny  nest  during  the 


next  week  ! 


And  with  what  joy 
did  we  find,  one  day, 
that  the   two  eggs 
had  changed  to  two 
young  humming- 


birds !  Helpless,  naked,  pitiful-look- 
ing objects  they  were,  to  be  sure  ; 
but  at  one  day  old,  even  the  best  of 
us  are  not  remarkable  for  strength, 

grace  or  beauty.  lyooking  at  these  helpless  creatures,  no  big- 
ger than  bumblebees,  their  whole  flabby  bodies  shaking  with 
every  beat  of  their  little  hearts,  it  seemed  almost  impossible 


A  WIDOW'vS  MITKS. 


55 


that  they  should  ever  attain  such  brilliancy  of  plumage,  such 
swiftness  of  motion,  and  such  power  of  endurance  as  belong 
to  adult  humrning-birds,  and  that  in  a  few  wrecks. 

But  if  we  wondered  at  the  generally  wretched  appearance 
of  the  newly-hatched  humming-birds,  *we  wondered  still 
more,  and  our  wonder  was  mixed  with  great  admiration, 
when  we  saw  them  survive  the  process  of  feeding. 

Doubtless  this  process  is  just  the  one  best  adapted  to  the 
condition  of  young  humming-birds  ;  but  to  the  human  spec- 
tator it  appears  nothing  less  than  cruel  and  dangerous. 
Imagine  a  human  mother  feeding  her  baby  by  thrusting 
down  its  throat  a  tube,  say  a  yard  long  and  two  inches  in 
diameter,  placing  the  food  in  the  upper  end  of  this  tube,  and 
then  violently  churning  the  tube  up  and  down  so  as  to  settle 
the  food  to  the  infant's  stomach  !  The  child  would  be  dead 
before  his  meal  was  finished. 

Yet  all  this  would  be  not  a  whit  worse  than  the  process  of 
feeding  young  humming-birds  appears  to  be.  The  mother- 
bird  inserts  her  bill  in  the  open  mouth  of  her  hungry 
offspring,  and  pushes  it  down  as  far  as  possible.  Then 
follow,  in  rapid  succession,  a  series  of  apparently  very  violent 
rammings  and  shakings,  as  the  partially-digested  food  is 
raised  from  the  stomach  of  the  old  bird  and  forced  into  that 
of  the  young  one. 

The  first  time  that  I  saw  this  operation  I  felt  sure  that  the 
poor  little  things  would  be  corpses  by  the  time  it  was  ended ; 
and  many  a  time,  as  the  mother's  sharp  bill  was  thrust  with 
great  haste  and  apparent  force  down  the  gaping  throat  of  the 
helpless  fledgling,  I  almost  held  my  breath  for  fear  it  would 
go  entirely  through  the  little,  soft  body,  and  pin  the  wretched 
creature  firmly  to  the  nest. 

No  doubt  this  performance,  notwithstanding  its  apparent 
cruelty,  serves  a  good  purpose  in  exercising  the  muscles  of 
the  young  bird  as  well  as  aiding  in  the  digestion  of  its  food. 

Thanks  to  the  constant  care  of  their  hard-working  mother, 
the  helpless,  naked,  awkward  little  "hummers"  gradually 


56 


A  widow's  mites. 


1 


increased  in  size  and  strength,  raised  a  crop  of  stubbly 
plumage,  and  began  to  look  something  like  birds.  Meantime, 
all  accessible  accounts  of  young  humming-birds  were  carefully 
read,  and  found  to  require  that  the  birds  should  leave  the 
nest  at  the  age  of  seven  days.  Now,  from  the  very  first  it 
was  plain  that  our  birdlings  had  no  intention  of  leaving 
home  so  early  in  life. 

When  they  were  a  week  old,  and  should  have  been, 
according  to  the  books,  spreading  their  wings  for  flight,  they 
were  still  practically  helpless,  and  their  original  nakedness 
was  not  yet  decently  covered  by  their  crop  of  pinfeathers. 

Their  bills  were,  at  this  time,  not  longer  than  that  of  a 
sparrow,  but  much  sharper  and  more  slender.  At  two  weeks 
of  age  the  little  fellows,  though  neither  fully  grown  nor  fully 
fledged,  had  yet  acquired  a  noticeable  likeness  to  their 
mother  ;  but  their  plumage  was  less  brilliant  and  their  bills 
much  shorter. 

About  this  time  one  of  the  little  birds  began  to  pay  strict 
attention  to  his  health,  taking  exercise  regularly  after  each 
meal,  by  standing  up  in  the  nest  and  vibrating  his  wings  for 
perhaps  ten  or  fifteen  seconds.  As  he  was  fed  about  once  an 
hour  on  the  average,  it  followed  that  he  got  a  good  deal  of 
exercise  in  the  course  of  a  day. 

For  several  days  longer  affairs  went  on  with  little  change 
except  that  the  young  birds  grew  noticeably  larger  and  more 
uneasy,  one  of  them  surpassing  the  other  in  both  respects. 
So  large  and  active  was  he,  and  apparently  so  strong,  that  I 
should  not  have  been  surprised  to  see  him  fly  away  from  the 
nest  at  any  time  after  he  was  sixteen  days  old. 

Yet  still  he  lingered,  and  like  his  companion  was  fed  by 
the  mother,  though  he  was  occasionally  seen  to  pick,  from  a 
neighboring  leaf,  an  insect  for  himself. 

The  feeding  by  the  mother-bird  seemed  now  less  danger- 
ous than  formerly,  perhaps  because  the  young,  being  larger 
and  stronger,  seemed  better  able  to  survive  the  violent 
treatment  that  always  accompanied  the  operation. 


A  widow's  mites. 


57 


At  last,  when  the  birds  were  nineteen  da^^s  old,  the  larger 
and  more  active  one  suddenly  spread  his  wings  in  real  earnest 
one  fine  morning,  and  flew  out  of  the  nest  to  a  neighboring 
twig.  He  was  not  followed  by  his  smaller  and  weaker  sister 
till  two  days  later. 

For  several  days  after  this  the  two  lingered  about  the  tree 
in  which  they  had  been  reared,  or  in  its  immediate  vicinity, 
sometimes  fed  in  the  good  old  way  by  their  watchful  mother, 
sometimes  feeding  themselves  on  the  insects  that  happened  to 
be  upon  twigs  and  leaves  near  them. 

During  these  days  the  mother  occasionally  fed  them  by 
putting  food  merely  into  their  mouths,  after  the  manner  of 
birds  generally,  but  more  often  the  feeding  was  by  the  old 
method  of  regurgitation.  She  even  shook  one  of  them  off  his 
twig  one  da}^  by  the  violence  of  her  motions. 

How  long  the  birds  remained  in  that  neighborhood  I 
cannot  say,  for  a  few  days  after  the  second  one  left  the  nest 
I  was  called  from  home,  and  did  not  return  for  three  weeks. 
When  I  did  return  the  birds  were  gone.  However,  I  once 
afterward  saw  both  the  young  birds  and  their  mother  in  the 
old  familiar  tree.  Then  they  flew  away,  and  I  have  never 
seen  them  since. 

K.  F.  HoLDEN. 


Owls  and  their  Uses. 

There  is  a  popular  belief  that  owls  are  exclusively  birds  of 
night  and  cannot  see  by  day,  or,  if  they  see  at  all,  that  their 
vision  is  extremely  limited.    "As  stupid  as  an  owl  !  "  is  the 

common  saying ;  but  doubtless  the 
phrase  refers  rather  to  feebleness  of 
vision  in  open  daylight  than  to  any 
supposed  mental  deficiency. 

In  truth,  owls  are  not  stupid,  nor 
are  they  by  any  means  blind  by  day. 
Even  ornithologists  have,  I  think,  ^ 
erred  in  assuming  that  most  owls  are 
exclusively  nocturnal,  though  it  has 
long  been  known  that  one  species, 
the  Hawk  Owl,  hunts  only  by  day. 
Probably  at  night  its  vision  is  as 
defective  as  that  of  a  hawk. 

I  am  inclined  to  believe  that  even 
the  Great  Horned,  Barn  and  little 
Screech  Owls,  which  are  perhaps  as 
nocturnal  as  any,  are  endowed  with 
by  no  means  keen  vision  in  the  dark, 
and  that  they  do  most  of  their  hunt- 
ing by  twilight  and  by  moon  or  bright  starlight.  True,  it  is 
possible  to  approach  closely  many  of  the  owls  in  the  daytime, 
as  they  sit  dozing  in  their  shady  retreats,  and  not  infrequently 
the  smaller  .species  may  be  caught  in  the  hands.  But  the 
passiveness  of  the  owls  by  day  is  the  result  more  of  sleepiness 
than  of  inability  to  see  ;  and,  once  started  in  the  daytime,  and 
given  a  chance  to  rub  open  their  drowsy  eyes,  so  to  speak, 
they  are  able  to  lead  their  would-be  captors  a  lively  chase. 
If  any  one  has  ever  been  aroused  from  a  deep  sleep  to  face 


OWLS  AND  THEIR  USEvS. 


59 


the  broad  daylight  suddenly,  he  will  appreciate  the  feelings 
of  the  winking,  blinking  owl,  and  be  surprised  no  longer  that 
under  such  circumstances  it  has  suffered  the  unjust  impu- 
tation of  stupidity. 

But  let  us  pass  from  general  facts  to  particulars,  and  see 
what  relation  the  owl  tribe  bears  to  man,  especially  to  the 
farmer.    It  is  high  time  the  matter  is  understood  ;  for  if  the 


ionable  craze.  Let  us  consider  the  Great  Horned  Owl  (Fig.  i) 
first  by  reason  of  his  size,  his  fine  presence — for  he  is  our 
finest  species  —  and  his  economic  importance. 

He  has  shortcomings.  The  chief  one  is  a  liking  for  fowls 
and  turkeys.  But  as  he  does  not  begin  to  hunt  until  it  is 
dusk,  and  retires  to  the  deep  woods  by  early  daylight,  he 
seldom  gets  a  chance  at  the  farmer's  fowls  unless  they  roost 
in  trees.  Then  he  becomes  a  dangerous  foe  indeed,  and  one 
the  farmer  is  justified  in  disposing  of  by  any  means. 

However,  when  rabbits  are  plenty  this  owl  prefers  them  ; 
and  in  the  far  West,  where  the  rabbit  is  extremely  abundant 
and  a  most  destructive  foe  to  the  crops,  the  Great  Horned 
Owl  does  good  service  in  warring  upon  them.  Many  thou- 
sands of  pounds  are  annually  expended  in  Australia  in  an 


owl  be  the  farmer's  friend,  the 
farmer  ought  to  know  it,  and 
bear  a  hand  in  the  effort  to 
stop  the  destruction  of  owls  of 
all  sorts  for  decorative  pur- 
poses. 


Fig.  2. 


Of  late  there  seems  to  be  an 
abatement  of  the  fashion,  but 
in  the  last  ten  years  many 
thousands  of  owls,  from  the 
Pigmy  Owl,  scarce  a  hand's 
breadth  high,  to  the  Great 
Horned  Owl,  with  a  spread  of 
wing  of  three  feet  and  more, 
have  fallen  victims  to  the  fash- 


6o 


OWLS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


attempt  to  destroy  the  rabbits  —  an  attempt  this  owl  woula 
gladly  second  if  it  were  given  a  chance.  The  Barred  Owl 
(Fig.  2)  is  not  quite  so  large  as  the  Great  Horned,  but  though 
by  no  means  as  fine  a  species  as  the  preceding,  it  is  yet  a 
notable  bird.  It  is  a  good  friend  of  the  farmer,  too,  in  the 
main,  though  its  record  with  regard  to  chickens  is  not 
altogether  a  clean  one.  Still,  it  feeds  mainly  upon  squirrels 
and  mice. 

Probably  all  the  larger  owls  are  cannibals,  and  do  not 
disdain  to  eat  one  of  their  smaller  brethren  when  opportunity 


offers.  The  Barred  Owl  is  no  exception  in  this  respect,  and 
the  remains  of  more  than  one  Screech  and  Acadian  Owlet 
have  been  found  in  the  stomachs  of  their  bigger  relatives. 

This  species  has  often  been  tamed  ;  and  when  taken  from 
the  nest  it  makes  a  gentle  and  interesting  pet.  Mr.  Frank 
Bolles,  in  the  Auk  for  April,  1890,  tells  a  story  of  a  pair  he 
kept  captive  for  a  long  time.  It  seems  probable  from  one  of 
his  experiments  that  fish  are  eaten  by  this  species  when  it 
can  catch  them.    When  some  live  perch  were  placed  in  the 


OWLS  AND  THEIR  USEvS. 


OI 


water-tank  in  the  cage,  both  owls,  though  they  were  but  three 
months  old,  and  had  never  seen  a  fish  before,  exhibited  great 
excitement,  and  immediately  jumped  into  the  water  to  seize 
their  prey. 

These  pets,  curiously  enough,  were  fond  of  earthworms. 
At  first  they  were  afraid  of  snakes,  but  soon  became  curious 
about  them,  and  subsequently  killed  and  ate  them  with 
relish.  So  far  as  our  farmers  are  concerned,  the  Snowy  Owl 
(Fig.  3)  is  of 
less  economic 
importance 
than  some 
others,  since  it 
is  never  pres- 
ent in  the  Uni- 
ted States  ex- 
cept in  autumn 

and  winter,  ^■ 
and  then  usually  only  in  comparatively 
small  numbers.  Occasionally,  however, 
as  it  did  in  1877-8,  it  appears  in  large 
numbers,  and  is  eagerly  shot  for  the 
cabinet  or  parlor.  Its  food  consists 
chiefly  of  lemmings,  hares  and  ptarmi- 
gans. When  in  the  United  States  it  also  destroys  many  rats. 
Singularly  enough,  this  owl  is  an  expert  fisher,  and  has  often 
been  seen  on  the  margins  of  pools,  waiting  an  opportunity  to 
seize  its  finny  prey.  Very  different  from  the  preceding  species 
both  in  appearance  and  habits  is  the  Barn  or  "  Monkey-faced 
Owl  "  (Fig.  4),  as  it  is  often  not  inaptly  termed.  While  the 
Snowy  Owl  is  a  bird  of  the  inclement  north,  the  Barn  Owl 
loves  sunnier  climes,  and  is  found  from  about  the  latitude  of 
the  Middle  States  southward,  not  only  through  the  United 
States  but  over  almost  all  the  world.  Doubtless  in  early 
times  the  Barn  Owl  had  to  depend  upon  its  own  resources  for 
a  habitation,  but  it  was  quick  to  perceive  the  advantages  of 


62 


OWLS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


a  co-partnership  with  man,  and  early  learned  to  build  its 
nest  in  odd  nooks  and  crannies  of  barns,  churches  and 
monasteries. 

This  owl  feeds  nearly  exclusively  upon  rodents,  and 
especially  mice,  and  does  its  hunting  almost  at  the  threshing- 
floor  of  the  farmer.    It  is  therefore  a  friend  which  should  be 


by  the  Barn  Owl  is  simply  enormous.  The  Southern  planter 
also  owes  it  a  debt  of  gratitude  from  the  persistent  war  it 
wages  upon  the  cotton  rat. 

The  lyong-eared  Owl  (Fig.  5),  as  its  name  implies,  has 
long  ear-tufts,  which  give  it  a  peculiarly  wise  appearance,  and 
unfortunately  render  it  a  favorite  ornament  of  the  parlor  and 
study.  It  is  one  of  our  most  common  owls,  both  East  and 
West,  and  almost  every  dark  pine  thicket  shelters  a  pair  or 
two.  It  roosts  in  trees,  and  in  them  builds  a  rude  nest  of 
sticks  and  twigs.  In  the  far  West,  I  have  started  a  dozen 
or  more  from  a  thicket  of  bushes  a  few  yards  in  extent. 

It  is  one  of  our  most  assiduous  mouse-destroyers,  and  the 
presence  of  hundreds  of  pellets  of  mouse  hair  and  bones 
usually  marks  the  retreat  of  a  pair  of  these  birds.  The 
downy  young  of  all  owls  are  curious-looking  creatures,  as 
may  be  seen  from  the  accompanying  illustration  of  a  growing 


peculiarly  cared  for  by 
him  and  not  left,  as  now, 
to  be  sacrificed  to  the 
passing  whim  of  the  mo- 
ment. 


Fig.  6. 


The  pouched  gopher 
of  California  is  pecul- 
iarly destructive  to 
lawns,  which  it  injures 
by  tunnelling  under  the 
grass  roots.  It  also  does 
much  damage  in  the 
garden.  The  number  of 
these  animals  captured 


OWLS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


63 


family  of  lyOng-eared  Owls.  Almost  as  soon  as  hatched,  the 
nestlings  will  take  food  from  the  hand  as  readily  as  from  the 
parent  bird,  and  soon  become  remarkably  tame  and  confiding. 

The  Short-eared  Owl  (Fig.  6)  is  of  about  the  same  size  as 
the  preceding,  but  the  ear-tufts  are  inconspicuous. 

Moreover,  it  is  a  bird  of  very  different  habits.  It  summers 
chiefly  in  the  fur  countries  and  the  Northern  prairie  States, 
and  winters  far  southward,  becoming  common  in  the  United 

States  in  the  early  fall.  It  is  most 
at  home  in  the  marshes  and  open 
country,  where  it  spends  the  hours 
of  bright  sunlight  among  the  thick 
grass. 

While  it  thus  prefers  to  doze 
during  the  brightest  hours,  it  can 
see  remarkably  well  in  the  daytime, 
and,  once  wakened  to  a  sense  of 
danger,  it  is  no  easy  matter  to  shoot 
it.  Its  food  consists  chiefly  of  mice 
and  insects.  Occasionally,  doubt- 
less, it  destroys  small  birds,  but  its 
^.   ^  main  subsistence  is  derived  from 

Fig.  7. 

animals  that  the  farmer  properly 
dreads  ;  nor  can  he  rid  himself  of  them  so  easily  and  cheaply 
in  any  other  way  as  by  protecting  the  owls. 

In  the  little  Screech  Owl  (Fig.  7),  whose  length  is  less 
than  ten  inches,  the  farmer  has  another  friend,  and  one  whose 
value  is  not  to  be  reckoned  by  its  bulk.  For  this  wise- 
looking  tufted  owlet  is  an  inveterate  foe  to  mice,  and  although 
he  has  been  known  to  enter  the  farmer's  domain  and  snatch 
a  tender  squab,  or  still  more  rarely  a  young  chicken,  he  can 
plead  that  such  misdeeds  are  performed  but  rarely,  and  only 
when  family  cares  drive  him  to  the  necessity.  For  young 
owls  are  most  voracious  creatures,  as  one  may  learn  who 
attempts  to  play  nurse  to  a  growing  owl  family. 

Moreover,  now  that  we  know  what  a  destructive  pest 


64 


OWLS  AND  THEIR  USES. 


is  the  English  sparrow,  it  is  well  to  note  that  "Scops"  is 
very  fond  of  this  pestilent  foreigner  ;  and,  from  the  habit  of 
the  sparrow  of  roosting  about  buildings,  our  owl  is  sometimes 
very  successful  in  his  patriotic  attempts  to  reduce  their 
numbers. 

Very  gentle  and  interesting  pets  Screech  Owls  make  ;  and 
if  taken  from  the  nest  when  in  the  down,  and  well  fed  and 
petted,  they  may  be  released  after  a  time  with  the  certainty 
that  they,  will  not  wander  far.  Frequently  they  roost  in  the 
shrubbery  near  the  house  during  the  day,  and  at  dusk  fly  to 
the  window  where  they  are  accustomed  to  be  fed. 

They  nest  in  the  hollows  of  trees,  and  this  is  where  they 
usually  roost  during  the  day.  Not  an  old  apple  orchard  in 
New  England  that  has  not  a  pair  of  these  little  owls  snugly 
hidden  away  in  the  hollows  of  some  gnarled  tree.  Other 
owls  there  are  which  are  worthy  of  mention,  did  space  permit. 

Take  them  all  in  all,  the  owls  must  be  considered  friends 
to  man.  They  are  emphatically  mice-eaters,  and  they  sup- 
plement the  work  of  the  hawks  by  day  by  waging  incessant 
warfare  against  man's  enemies  at  a  time  when  both  hawks 
and  men  are  resting. 


H.  W.  Henshaw. 


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